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THE PURITAN EDITION 



The Pilgrim's Progress 



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FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH > 2 A 
IS TO COME. DELIVERED UNDER 
THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 



BY 

JOHN BUNYAN 

Thirty-one Illustrations in Puritan Costume 
By Harold Copping 




New York Chicago Toronto 

Fleming H. Revell Company 

London and Edinburgh 



Copyright, 1903, by 

FLEMING H REVELL COMPANY 

(.October) 



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New York* 158 Pifth Avenue 
Chicago: 125 North Wabash Ave. 
Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W. 
London: 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street 



PREFACE 

In the preparation of this, the Puritan Edition of Pil- 
grim's Progress^ special attention has been paid to revis- 
ion of the text, and great pains taken to restore this as 
nearly as possible to the text which had received 
Bunyan's own latest corrections and additions. It is 
well known that in the second and third editions, 
Bunyan made large additions to the allegory and many 
important corrections. For example. Worldly Wise- 
man first makes his appearance in the second edition, 
published in 1678, the year already made famous by 
the publication of the first edition. In the third edition, 
issued in 1679, Bunyan added the characteristic portrait 
of Mr. By-ends. During Bunyan s life-time, eleven 
editions of the great book were published, the last 
appearing in 1688, the year of his death. 

The edition now presented to readers of every class 
contains the text of the Pilgrim's Progress as it stood 
when Bunyan's death removed all possibility of further 
authoritative revision. The proofs have been very 
carefully compared with copies of the first, second, 
third, and eleventh editions in the library of the British 
Museum. The eleventh, which is one of the rarest in 
the whole series, appeared in the year when Bunyan 
died. It doubtless contains its latest corrections- It 



r 



PREFACE 

was also much more fully illustrated than any previous 
issue. There are often important differences between 
the text of the third and of the eleventh editions. In 
all these cases the text printed here is that of the 
eleventh. 

In the original edition Scripture references were 
printed in the margin. But these are often inaccurate. 
In later days these have been much revised, altered, 
and enlarged. No attempt has been made in this 
edition to reproduce these references. 

The second part has for this reprint been carefully 
collated with the second edition, published in 1686. This 
was the last edition of that part issued in Bunyan's life- 
time, and doubtless contains his own latest corrections. 

This edition, therefore, may confidently claim to be as 
accurate as the very best editions in print, if, indeed, it 
be not superior to any yet issued. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing page 
EVANGELIST POINTS THE WAY . . . Title 

"Do you see yonder shining light?" 

CHRISTIAN WALKING IN THE FIELD ... 18 
He -was {as he was wont) reading in his book. 

THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND 24 

So he gave him his hand, and he drew him out, 
and set him upon sound ground, and bid hitn go on 
his way, 

THE WICKET GATE 34 

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave 
him a pull. 

THE MAN IN THE IRON CAGE 42 

Then said Christian, "Is there no hope, but you must 
be kept in the iron cage of despair ?" 

CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS BURDEN .... 46 

Now as he stood looking and weeping, behold, three 

Shining Ones came to him. 

CLIMBING THE HILL DIFFICULTY .... 50 
He fell from running to going, and from going 
to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because 
of the steepness of the place. 

CHRISTIAN CLOTHED IN ARMOUR .... 64 

They harnessed him from head to foot with what 

was of proof . 

V 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing page 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH . 72 
So he cried in my hearing, " (9 Lord, I beseech Thee, 
deliver my soul.'' 

TALKATIVE 86 

" What you will. I will talk of things heavenly, 
or things earthly ; things tnoral, or things evan- 
gelical. " 

VANITY FAIR 98 

As they entered into the fair, all the people in the 
fair were moved, and the town itself, as it were, in 
a hubbub about them. 

FAITHFUL'S MARTYRDOM 106 

Last of all they burned him. to ashes at the stake. 
Thus came Faithful to his end. 

DEMAS 114 

Then said Hopeful, ''Let us go see." 

IN THE DUNGEON OF GIANT DESPAIR . , .122 
Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till 
Saturday night without one bit of bread, or drop of 
drink, or light. 

THE HILL CALLED ERROR 128 

They had them^first to the top of the hill, called 
Error, which was very steep on the farthest side, 
and bid them look down to the bottom. 

ENTANGLED IN THE NET 140 

At last they espied a Shining One coming towards 
them with a whip of small cord in his hand. 

HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION ..,,.. 150 
''Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner." 

CROSSING THE RIVER 164 

Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, say- 
ing "Brother, I see the gate." 
vi 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing page 

CHRISTIANA'S VISITOR i86 . 

So she cried out to her visitor, *'Sir, will you 
carry me and tny children with you, that we also 
may go and worship this King ? " 

MERCY AND TIMOROUS CALL ON CHRISTIANA . i88 

Two of the women that were Christiana! s neighbours 

came up to her house and knocked at the door. 

MERCY AT THE GATE 196 

But Mercy was fallen down without in a swoon. 

THE BOYS AND THE FRUIT 202 

So Christiana! s boys, as boys are apt to do, being 
pleased with the trees, and with the fruit that did 
hang thereon, did pluck thetn, and began to eat. 
Their mother did also chide the^nfor so doing, 

THE MAN WITH THE'MUCK-RAKE . . . . 2«8 
A man that could look no way but downwards, 
with a muck-rake in his hand. There stood also 
One over his head, with a celestial crown in His 
hand, and proffered to give him that crown for his 
muck-rake. 

CLIMBING THE HILL DIFFICULTY . . . . 222 ' 
''Come, come," said Great-heart, "■sit not down here; 
for a little above is the Prince' s arbour." 

MR BRISK AND MERCY 236 

So the next time he comes he finds her at her old 
work, amaking of things for the poor. Then said 
he, "What, always at it?" 

THE SHEPHERD BOY'S SONG 246 / 

And as he sat by himself he sung. 

DEATH OF GIANT MAUL 254 

With that the giant began to faint, and could 
hold up his club no longer. Then Mr Great-heart 
seconded his blow,' and smote the head of the giant 
from his shoulders. 

vii 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing pagre 
GREAT - HEART CONDUCTING MR FEARING 
THROUGH THE VALLEY OP THE SHADOW 

OF DEATH 262 / 

''I thought I should have lost my man. — He it/as 
ready to die for fear." 

GREAT-HEART AND MR HONEST AT GAIUS'S 

HOUSE 274 

':'Ha! " said Mr Honest, " it is a hard one ; hard to 
expound, and harder to practise." 

MR DESPONDENCY AND HIS DAUGHTER MUCH- 1 

AFRAID 29a "^ 

They found one Mr Despondency, almost starved to 
death, and one Much-afraid, his daughter. 

CHRISTIANA BLESSING HER CHILDREN. . . 314 

Then she called for her children, and gave them 

her blessing. 



viii 



MEMOIR OF JOHN BUNYAN 

John Buntan, the son of a travelling brazier or tinker, 
was born at Elstow, near Bedford, in 1628, at a period 
when wickedness prevailed through the land. His 
education was such as poor people could in those days 
give to their children. He was sent to school and 
taught to read and write ; but he was an idle boy, and 
for cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming, had few 
equals of his own age. In his earlier days, terror seemed 
to be the only restraining influence of which he felt 
the power. In the day-time he often had gloomy fore- 
bodings of the wrath to come ; and at night he was scared 
with dreams. His imagination conceived apparitions of 
evil spirits seeking to drag him away after them ; or he 
would fancy that the last day was come, with all its 
terrible realities. 

Such were his youthful fears. As he grew older, 
he became more hardened : and the remarkable provi- 
dential interpositions of which he was the subject neither 
startled nor melted him. Twice he narrowly escaped 
drowning ; and during the Civil War was drawn as a 
soldier to go to the siege of Leicester. A comrade, 
who had sought and obtained leave to go in his room, 
when standing sentry, was shot through the head and 
died. 

His marriage had some slight influence on his future 
life. The young woman was very poor, and her only 
\ 5 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

portion consisted of two volumes which her father, a 
godly man, had given to her — The Plain Mans Pathway 
to Heaven^ and The Practice of Piety. Mrs Bunyan 
would often read these books with her husband, and 
would relate what a holy life her father led. As a 
consequence an earnest desire for reformation seized 
upon him ; but it was only external. His heart was 
unchanged, and he continued in a sinful course of 
life. 

Hearing, however, a sermon on the sin of Sabbath- 
breaking, it much affected him. As was his custom, 
he was engaged in the afternoon at a pastime, when 
thoughts of a coming judgment crowded in upon his 
awakened mind. He became terrified, and imagined he 
heard a voice from heaven saying, * Wilt thou leave thy 
sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to 
hell?' The conviction that he had been a grievous 
transgressor flashed across his mind, but he concluded 
that it was too late for him to look for pardon or 
for heaven, and he returned desperately to his sports 
again. 

After some time had passed, he fell into the company of 
a poor Christian man, whose pious conversation about 
religion and the Scriptures so touched Bunyan's heart 
that he began to read the Bible. There were many 
things in that book which alarmed him, and he commenced 
an outward reformation in word and life, but entirely in 
his own strength, and ignorant of the love and grace of 
Christ Jesus. The conversation of three pious women, 
sitting at a door in the streets of Bedford, one day 
attracted his notice. He drew near, and as they spoke of 
the things of God, of His work in their hearts, and of the 
peace of reconciliation, he saw there was something in real 

6 



BRIEF NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR 

religion which he had not yet known or felt. Their words 
were never forgotten, and from that time he forsook the 
company of the profane, and sought the society of those 
who had at least a reputation for piety. 

Bunyan had now set out fairly on his way from the 
City of Destruction ; but he fell into many dangers and 
errors, and there is scarcely a fear which can assail an 
inquiring spirit which did not at some period disturb 
his mind. For a long time, he was like his own man in 
the cage, at Interpreter's house, shut out from the pro- 
mises and looking forward to certain judgment. His 
conflict, too, with the Evil One was such as to remind 
us of the struggle between Christian and Apollyon. 
There came now, however, as he beautifully expresses it 
in his Pilgrim, a hand with some of the leaves of the 
tree of life, which Christian took and applied to some of 
the wounds he had received in the battle, and was healed 
immediately. He was led by faith to the cross of Christ, 
and became more than conqueror through Him that loved 
him. Shortly after this time, he made an open profession 
of religion, and then began to make known to others the 
Saviour whom he had found. 

The now enlightened Christian man soon had to suffer 
much on account of his religion. Between the years 1655 
and 1660 he often preached in the neighbourhood of Bed- 
ford. In the latter year he was arrested and put into the 
Bedford County Gaol, where, for twelve years, with but 
one brief interval of a few weeks, he was kept a prisoner. 
It is frequently asserted that Bunyan wrote the Pilgrim^s 
Progress during this imprisonment. But Dr Brown has 
shown conclusively that it was during a later and briefer 
imprisonment in the old town jail on Bedford Bridge in 
the year 1 676 that the first part of the immortal master- 

7 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

piece was written. It was first published in the early 
months of the year 1 67 8. The second part was not 
published until 1 685. 

This book, which is equally a favourite in the nursery 
and in the study, has received the commendation of men 
of the highest order of intellect. It has been translated 
into numerous languages, some of which were un- 
known to Europe in the days in which Bunyan lived. 
Missionaries have carried with them this book to almost 
every part of the earth ; and now the Pilgrim tells his 
tale to the Chinese in the East, to the negroes in the 
West, to the Greenlanders in the North, and the islanders 
of the Pacific in the South. 

Bunyan was the author of another allegory. The Holy 
War, published in 1682, which is second only in merit 
to the Pilgrim^s Progress. In his own inimitable way he 
has also told the story of his life and religious ex- 
perience in Grace Abounding, a classic worthy to stand by 
Augustine's Confessions and Luther's Table Talk. Besides 
these great works he wrote many valuable treatises, 
some of which are still read with pleasure and profit. 

In prison Bunyan learned the art of making long- 
tagged thread laces, and thus contributed to the support 
of his family. After his release he lived a useful life 
as minister of Bunyan Meeting in Bedford, and as a 
preacher and writer. He died August 12, 1 688, at Mr 
Strudwick's, a grocer, at the sign of the * Star,' on Snow 
Hill, and was buried in Bunhill Fields. 



\ 



THE 

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK 

When at the first I took my pen in hand 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little book 
In such a mode ; nay, I had undertook 
To make another ; which, when almost done. 
Before I was aware I this begun. 

And thus It was : I writing of the way 
And race of saints, in this our gospel day. 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journey, and the way to glory, 
In more than twenty things which I set down ; 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown 5 
And they again began to multiply. 
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. 
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast 
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out 
The book that I already am about. 
Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
To show to all the world my pen and ink 
In such a mode ; I only thought to make 
I knew not what : nor did I undertake 
Thereby to please my neighbour: no, not 1} 
I did it mine own self to gratify. 
9 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my scribble : nor did I intend 
But to divert myself in doing this. 
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss. 

Thus I set pen to paper with delight, 

And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. 

For having now my method by the end, 

Still as I puU'd, it came ; and so I penn'd 

It down : until it came at last to be. 

For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, 
I show'd them others, that I might see whether 
They would condemn them, or them justify : 
And some said. Let them live ; some, Let them die. 
Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so ; 
Some said. It might do good ; others said. No. 

Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
Which was the best thing to be done by me ; 
At last I thought. Since ye are thus divided, 
I print it will ; and so the case decided 

For, thought I, some I see would have it done. 
Though others in that channel do not run : 
To prove, then, who advised for the best. 
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 

I further thought, if now I did deny 
Those that would have it, thus to gratify; 
I did not know, but hinder them I might 
Of that which would to them be great delighL 
For those which were not for its coming forth, 
I said to them. Offend you I am loth : 
Yet since your brethren pleased with it be. 
Forbear to judge, till you do further see. 

lO 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone ; 
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bones 
Yea, that I might them better palliate, 
I did too with them thus expostulate: 



May I not write in such a style as this ? 
In such a method too, and yet not miss 
My end — thy good ? Why may it not be done ? 
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. 
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops. 
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either. 
But treasures up the fruit they yield together; 
Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit 
None can distinguish this from that ; they suit 
Her well when hungry ; but if she be full 
She spews out both, and makes their blessing null. 

You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make ! 
Behold how he engageth all his wits ; 
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets ; 
Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line. 
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine ; 
They must be grop'd for, and be tickled too. 
Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do. 

How does the fowler seek to catch his game 
By divers means ! all which one cannot name : 
His gun, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell: 
He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tell 
Of all his postures ? Yet there's none of these 
Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this j 
Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss. 
If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

And may be found too in an oyster-shell ; 
If things that promise nothing do contain 
What better is than gold j who will disdain. 
That have an inkling of it, there to look. 
That they may find it ? Now my little book, 
(Though void of all these paintings that may make 
It with this or the other man to take,) 
Is not without those things that do excel 
What do in brave, but empty notions dwell. 



* Well, yet I am not fully satisfied. 
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried.* 



Why, what's the matter? *It is dark.* What 

though ? 

* But it is feigned.' What of that ? I trow 
Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine. 
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine. 

* But they want solidness.' Speak, man, thy mind. 

* They drowned the weak ; metaphors make us blind.* 

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
Of him that writeth things divine to men : 
But must I needs want solidness, because 
By metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws. 
His gospel laws, in olden time held forth 
By types, shadows, and metaphors .•' Yet loth 
Will any sober man be to find fault 
With them, lest he be found for to assault 
The highest wisdom ! No, he rather stoops. 
And seeks to find out what by pins and loops. 
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams. 
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
God speaketh to him ; and happy is he 
That finds the light and grace that in them be. 

12 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 

Be not too forward therefore to conclude 
That I want solidness — that I am rude : 
All things solid in show not solid be ; 
All things in parable despise not we. 
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, 
And things that good are of our souls bereave. 
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold 
The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold. 

The prophets used much by metaphors 
To set forth truth : yea, whoso considers 
Christ, His apostles too, shall plainly see. 
That truths to this day in such mantles be. 

Am I afraid to say, that Holy Writ, 
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wiv 
Is everywhere so full of all these things. 
Dark figures, allegories ? Yet there springs 
From that same book, that lustre, and those rays 
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days. 

Come, let my carper to his life now look. 
And find there darker lines than in my book 
He findeth any ; yea, and let him know, 
That in his best things there are worse lines too. 

May we but stand before impartial men. 
To his poor one I durst adventure ten, 
That they will take my meaning in these lines 
Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
Come, Truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find 
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ; 
Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
Submit ; the memory too it doth fill 
With what doth our imagination please ; 
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease, 

^3 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use. 
And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; 
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid 
The use of parables ; in which lay hid 
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were 
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 

Let me add one word more. O man of God ! 
Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 
Put forth my matter in another dress ? 
Or that I had in things been more express ? 
Three things let me propound j then I submit 
To those that are my betters, as is fit. 

1. I find not that I am denied the use 
Of this my method, so I no abuse 

Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude 
In handling figure or similitude. 
In application j but all that I may 
Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave, 
(Example too, and that from them that have 
God better pleased, by their words or ways. 
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days,) 
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
Things unto thee that excellentest are. 

2. I find that men as high as trees will write 
Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight 
For writing so : indeed if they abuse 

Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use 

To that intent ; but yet let Truth be free 

To make her sallies upon thee and me. 

Which way it pleases God : for who knows how. 

Better than He that taught us first to plough. 

To guide our mind and pens for His design ? 

And He makes base things usher in divine. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 

3. I find that Holy "Writ in many places 
Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
Do call for one thing, to set forth another : 
Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother 
Truth's golden beams : nay, by this method may 
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 

And now, before I do put up my pen, 
I'll show the profit of my book ; and then 
Commit both thee and it unto that hand 
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 

This book it chalketh -out before thine eyes 
The man that seeks the everlasting prize : 
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes 5 
What he leaves undone ; also what he does : 
It also shows you how he runs and runs 
Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 

It shows, too, who sets out for life amain. 
As if the lasting crown they would attain : 
Here also you may see the reason why 
They lose their labour, and like fools do die. 

This book will make a traveller of thee 
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be ; 
It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
If thou wilt its directions understand : 
Yea, it will make the slothful active be j 
The blind also delightful things to see. 

Art thou for something rare and profitable ? 
Wouldest thou see a truth within a fable ? 
Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember 
From New-year's day to the last of December ? 
Then read my fancies ; they will stick like burs. 
And may be to the helpless, comforters. 

15 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

This book is writ in such a dialect. 
As may the minds of listless men affect : 
\t seems a novelty, and yet contains 
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 

"Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ? 
"Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ? 
Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation ? 
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ? 
Dost thou love picking meat ? Or wouldst thou see 
A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? 
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? 
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep ? 

Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm, 

And find thyself again without a charm ? 

Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knoVst not what. 

And yet know whether thou art blest or not. 

By reading the same lines ? O then come hither. 

And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 

John Buntan. 



i6 
















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THE 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I 
lighted on a certain place where was a 
den, and laid me down in that place to 
sleep ; and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, 
and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags standing in 
a certain place, with his face from his own house, a 
book, in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. 
I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein ; 
and as he read, he wept and trembled; and not being 
able longer to contain, he brake out with 
a lamentable cry, saying. What shall 
I do? 

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained 
himself as long as he could, that his wife and children 
should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be 
silent long, because that his trouble increased. Where- 
fore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children ; 
and thus he began to talk to them. O my dear wife, said 
he, and you the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, 
am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard 

upon me : moreover, I am for certain in- _. . , . 
r 11 1 • . -11 1 1 1 Thjsworld 

rormed that this our city will be burned 

with fire from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, 
both myself, with thee my wife, and you He knows no way 
my sweet babes, shall miserably come to of escape as yet 
ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of 

17 8 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

escape can be found, whereby we may be delivered. 
At this his relations were sore amazed ; not for that 
they believed that what he had said to them was 
true, but because they thought that some phrensy 
distemper had got into his head j therefore, it drawing 
towards night, and they hoping that sleep might settle 
his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But 
the night was as troublesome to him as the day ; 
wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs 
and tears. So when the morning was come, they 
would know how he did. He told them, "Worse 
and worse : he also set to talking to them again j but 
they began to be hardened. They also thought to 
Carnal physic for drive away his distemper by harsh and 
a sick soul surly carriages to him : sometimes they 

would deride, sometimes they would chide, and some- 
times they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began 
to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and pity 
them, and also to condole his own misery ; he would 
also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and 
sometimes praying : and thus for some days he spent 
his time. 

Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in 
the fields, that he was (as he was wont) reading in 
his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as 
he read, he burst out as he had done before, crying. 
What shall I do to be saved ? 

I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as 
if he would run j yet he stood still, because (as I per- 
ceived) he could not tell which way to go. I looked 
then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, 
and asked. Wherefore dost thou cry ? 

He answered. Sir, I perceive, by the book in my 
hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to 
come to judgment ; and I find that I am not willing 
to do the first, nor able to do the second. 

Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since 
this life is attended with so many evils ? The man 

i8 




CHRISTIAN ^YALKING IN THE FIEJLJi) 
He lias (as he teas icont) reading in his book. 



EVANGELIST DIRECTS HIM 

answered, Because I fear that this burden that is upon 
my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I shall 
fall into Tophet. And, sir, if I be not fit to go to 
prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence 
to execution; and the thoughts of these things make 
me cry. 

Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why 
standest thou still ? He answered. Because conviction of the 
I know not whither to go. Then he gave necessity of flying 
him a parchment roll, and there was written within. Fly 
from the wrath to come. 

The man therefore read it, and, looking upon Evangelist 
very carefully, said, Whither must I fly.? Then said 
Evangelist pointing with his finger over a very wide 
field. Do you see yonder Wicket-gate .? The man said, 
No. Then said the other. Do you see 
yonder shining light ? He said, I think t^'fm^alnot be^ 
I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that found without the 

!• L.. • 1 if , word 

light m your eye, and go up directly 
thereto, so shalt thou see the gate ; at which, when 
thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt 
do. So I saw in my dream that the man began to 
run. Now he had not run far from his own door, 
but his wife and children, perceiving it, began to cry 
after him to return ; but the man put his fingers in 
his ears, and ran on, crying, Life ! life ! eternal life ! 
So he looked not behind him, but fled towards the middle 
of the plain. 

The neighbours also came out to see him run j and as 
he ran some mocked, others threatened, 
and some cried after him to return ; and Sl^^Sth to c'oTe 
among those that did so, there were two areagazingr-stock 
that were resolved to fetch him back by ° * '^*"' 
force. The name of the one was Obstinate, and the name 
of the other Pliable. Now by this time obstinate and 
the man was got a good distance from PUaWe foUow him 
them ; but however they were resolved to pursue him, 
which they did, and in a little time they overtook him. 

19 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then said the man, Neighbours, wherefore are you come? 
They said. To persuade you to go back with us. But he 
said. That can by no means be : you dwell, said he, in the 
City of Destruction, the place also where I was born : I 
see it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or later you will 
sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with 
fire and brimstone : be content, good neighbours, and go 
along with me. 

Obst. What ! said Obstinate, and leave our friends and 
our comforts behind us ! 

Chr. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), 
because that all which you shall forsake is not worthy 
to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy ; 
and if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall 
fare as I myself; for there, where I go, is enough and to 
spare. Come away, and prove my words. 

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave 
all the world to find them ? 

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, 
and that fadeth not away ; and it is laid up in heaven, and 
safe there, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, on them 
that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my 
book. 

Obst. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book; 
will you go back with us or no ? 

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid my 
hand to the plough. 

Obst. Come then, neighbour Pliable, let ns turn 
again, and go home without him : there is a company of 
these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they take a fancy 
by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men 
that can render a reason. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Don't revile ; if what the good 
Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better 
than ours : my heart inclines to go with my neighbour. 

Obst. What I more fools still ! Be ruled by me, and 
go back ; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow 
will lead you ? Go back, go back, and be wise. 

20 



OBSTINATE GOES BACK 

Chr. Come with thy neighbour, Pliable ; there are 
such things to be had which I spoke ^. . .. 

^ . " 1 • 1 . 1 ^ T/- Christian and Ob- 

or, and many more glories besides. If stinatejpuUfor 
you believe not me, read here in this iiaWessoui 
book; and for the truth of what is expressed therein, 
behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that 
made it. 

Pli. Well, neighbour Obstinate, saith Pliable, I begin 
to come to a point; I intend to go along pn^bie contented 
with this good man, and to cast in my lot to go with chris- 
with him : but, my good companion, do 
you know the way to this desired place ? 

Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evan- 
gelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, where 
we shall receive instruction about the way. 

Pli. Come then, good neighbour, let us be going. 
Then they went both together. 

Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate : 
I will be no companion of such misled, obstinate goes 
fantastical fellows. raiUngback 

Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was 
gone back. Christian and Pliable went Talk between 
talking over the plain ; and thus they be- Christian and 

*ir • J- Pliable 

gan their discourse. 

Chr. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do ? I 
am glad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had 
even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt of the 
powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not 
thus lightly have given us the back. 

Pli, Come, neighbour Christian, since there are none 
but us two here, tell me now further, what the things are, 
and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going. 

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind 
than speak of them with my tongue: but God's things an- 
yet, since you are desirous to know, I will speakabie 
read of them in my book. 

PIL And do you think that the words of your book 
are certainly true ? 

21 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that 
cannot lie. 

Pli. Well said ; what things are they ? 

Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, 
and everlasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit 
that kingdom for ever. 

Pli. Well said ; and what else ? 

Chr. There are crowns of glory to be given us j and 
garments that will make us shine like the sun in the firma- 
ment of heaven. 

Pli. This is excellent ; and what else ? 

Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow : for 
He that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our 
eyes. 

Pli. And what company shall we have there ? 

Chr. There we shall be with seraphims and cheru- 
bims ; creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on 
them. There also you shall meet with thousands and 
ten thousands that have gone before us to that place ; 
none of them are hurtful, but loving and holy; 
every one walking in the sight of God, and standing 
in His presence with acceptance for ever. In a word, 
there we shall see the elders with their golden 
crowns ; there we shall see the holy virgins with their 
golden harps ; there we shall see men, that by the 
world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of 
beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bare 
to the Lord of the place ; all well, and clothed with 
immortality as with a garment. 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's 
heart. But are these things to be enjoyed ? How shall 
we get to be sharers hereof? 

Chr. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath 
recorded that in this book ; the substance of which is. 
If we be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon 
us freely. 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of 
these things : come on, let us mend our pace. 



THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND 

Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this 
burden that is on my back. 

Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had 
ended this talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough, 
that was in the midst of the plain; and they being 
heedless, did both fall suddenly into the TheSioughof 
bog. The name of the slough was Despond 
Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, 
being grievously bedaubed with dirt ; and Christian, 
because of the burden that was on his back, began to 
sink in the mire. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbour Christian, 
where are you now ? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 

Pli. At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily 
said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me 
all this while of? If we have such ill speed at our first 
setting out, what may we expect 'twixt this and our 
journey's end ? May I get out again with ^ ig^^t enough 
my life, you shall possess the brave t° ^^ pliable 
country alone for me. And with that he gave a 
desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire 
on that side of the slough which was next to his own 
house : so away he went, and Christian saw him no 
more. 

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough 
of Despond alone : but still he endea- 
voured to struggle to that side of the troubi^seiks stui 
slough that was further from his own his^own^ouse*^""" 
house, and next to the Wicket-gate ; the 
which he did, but could not get out because of the burden 
that was upon his back : but I beheld in my dream, that a 
man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked him, 
What he did there ? 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a 
man called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder 
gate, that I might escape the wrath to come. And as I 
was going thither, I fell in here. 

23 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Help. But why did not you look for the steps ? 

Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that 

The promises I fled the next way, and fell in. i 

Help. Then said he, Give me thy hand : so he gave 

« . ,.r. ... . him his hand, and he drew him out, and 
Help Lfts him out , . , , j i_ • j i_ • 

set him upon sound ground, and bid him 

go on his way. 

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said. 
Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from the 
City of Destruction to yonder gate, is it that this plat is 
not mended, that poor travellers might go thither with 
more security ? And he said unto me. This miry slough 
What makes the Is such a place as Cannot be mended : it is 
Siongh of Despond (-^e descent whither the scum and filth 
that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and 
therefore it was called the Slough of Despond ; for still as 
the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there arise 
in his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging appre- 
hensions, which all of them get together, and settle in this 
place. And this is the reason of the badness of this ground. 

It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should 
remain so bad. His labourers also have, by the directions 
of his Majesty's surveyors, been for above these sixteen 
hundreds years employed about this patch of ground, if 
perhaps it might have been mended : yea, and to my know- 
ledge, said he, here hath been swallowed up at least twenty 
thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions, 
that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the 
King's dominions (and they that can tell, say, they are the 
best materials to make good ground of the place), if so be it 
might have been mended j but it is the Slough of Despond 
still, and so will be when they have done what they can. 

True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, 

certain good and substantial steps, placed 

S|i?eneil"and eveu through the Very midst of this 

accejjtanceto life slouffh : but at such time as this place 

by faith in Chnst 11, • /-i 1 -it 

doth much spew out its filth, as it doth 
against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen ; 

24 




THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND 

So he gave him his hand, and he drew him out, and set him upon 

sound ground, and bid him go on his way. 



PLIABLE GETS HOME 

or if they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, 
step besides, and then they are bemired to purpose, not- 
withstanding the steps be there ; but the ground is good 
when they are once got in at the gate. 

Now I saw in my dream, that by this pjj^^^j^ jg ^^ 
time Pliable was got home to his house, home, and is 
So his neighbours came to visit him j and nelghbom-l!'^ His 
some of them called him wise man for !i?*!f*fi°J?^"iI?L 

_ tnem at his return 

commg back, and some called him tool tor 
hazarding himself with Christian : others again did mock 
at his cowardliness ; saying, Surely, since you began 
to venture, I would not have been so base to have 
given out for a few difficulties : so Pliable sat sneaking 
among them. But at last he got more confidence, and 
then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor 
Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning 
Pliable. 

Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, he 
espied one afar off, come crossing over the field to meet 
him ; and their hap was to meet just as ^^^uj wise- 
they were crossing the way of each other, man meets with 
The gentleman's name that met him was 
Mr Worldly Wiseman : he dwelt in the town of Carnal 
Policy, a very great town, and also hard-by from whence 
Christian came. This man then, meeting with Christian, 
and having some inkling of him (for Christian's setting 
forth from the City of Destruction was much noised 
abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but also 
it began to be the town talk in some other places), — Mr 
Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him, 
by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs 
and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some 
talk with Christian. 

\V0rld. How now, good fellow ^alk betwixt Mr 

whither away after this burdened manner r Worldly wisemaa 

Chr. A burdened manner, indeed, as ^ "^ "^ 
ever I think poor creature had ! And whereas you ask 
me. Whither away ? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder 
- 25 , 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Wicket-gate before me ; for there, as I am informed, 
I shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden. 

World. Hast thou a wife and children ? 

Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, that 
I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly : methinks 
I am as if I had none. 

World. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee 
counsel ? 

Chr. If It be good, I will •, for I stand in need of good 
counsel. 

World. I would advise thee then, that thou with all 

Worldly Wise- ^P^^^ 8^' thyself rid of thy burden ; for 

man's counsel thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till 

then : nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of 

the blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee, till then. 

Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of 
this heavy burden : but get it off myself I cannot ; nor 
is there any man in our country that can take it off my 
shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I told you, 
that I may be rid of my burden. 

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy 
burden ? 

Chr. A man that appeared to me to be a very great 
and honourable person : his name, as I remember, is 
Evangelist. 

World. I beshrew him for his counsel ! there is not 
a more dangerous and troublesome way in 
mIn™£S?" the world than is that unto which he hath 
E^^n|eiist's directed thee ; and that thou shalt find, if 

thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. Thou 
hast met with something, as I perceive, already ; for I see 
the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee ; but that 
slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend 
those that go on in that way. Hear me j I am older than 
thou : thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou 
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, naked- 
ness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, 
death, and what not. These things are certainly true, 

25 



WORLDLY WISEMAN 

having been confirmed by many testimonies. And should 
a man so carelessly cast away himself, by giving heed 
to a stranger ? 

Chr. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more 
terrible to me than all these things which you have 
mentioned : nay, methinks I care not what The frame of the 
I meet with in the way, if so be I can also heart of a young 

. , , ,. ■'^ , J Christian 

meet with deliverance from my burden. 

World. How camest thou by thy burden at first ? 

Chr. By reading this book in my hand. 

World. I thought so; and it is happened unto thee 
as to other weak men, who, meddling with worldly Wisemaa 
things too high for them, do suddenly fall does not like that 

111611 SllOUld DC 

into thy distractions ; which distractions do serious in reading 
not only unman men, as thine I perceive ^^^ ^^^^^ 
have done thee, but they run them upon desperate ventures 
to obtain they know not what. 

Chr. I know what I would obtain j it is ease from my 
heavy burden. 

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, 
seeing so many dangers attend it ? especially since (hadst 
thou but patience to hear me) I could direct thee to the 
obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that 
thou in this way wilt run thyself into ? Yea, and the 
remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, that instead of 
those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friend- 
ship, and content. 

Chr. Sir, I pray open this secret to me. 

World. Why, in yonder village (the village is named 
Morality) there dwells a gentleman whose name is 
Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very 
good name, that has skill to help men off whether Mr 
with such burdens as thine are from Worldly Wiseman 
their shoulders ; yea, to my knowledge, Eefore^he strait 
he hath done a great deal of good this ^**^® 
way; ay, and besides,, he hath skill to cure those that 
are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. 
To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped 

27 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

presently. His house Is not quite a mile from this 
place ; and if he should not be at home himself, he hath 
a pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility, 
that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman 
himself: there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy 
burden ; and if thou art not minded to go back to thy 
former habitation, as indeed I would not wish thee, 
thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee to 
this village, where there are houses now standing empty, 
one of which thou mayest have at reasonable rates : 
provision is there also cheap and good ; and that which 
will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure there 
thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good 
fashion. 

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but presently 
^^ . ,. ^ he concluded. If this be true which this 

Christian snared , i % • i 

by Mr Worldly gentleman hath said, my wisest course is 

Wiseman-swords ^^ ^^j^^ j^jg ^jyj^,^ . ^^j ^j^j^ ^^^^ ^ie thuS 

further spoke. 

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's house ? 
Mount Sinai World. Do you See yonder high hill ? 

Chr. Yes, very well. 

World. By that hill you must go, and the first house 
you come at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr Legality's 
house for help ; but behold, when he was 
Sia"Snf Sinai got now hard by the hill, it seemed so 
head** ^*" °" ^'* high, and also that side of it that was next 
the way-side did hang so much over, that 
Christian was afraid to venture farther, lest the hill should 
fall on his head ; wherefore there he stood still, and 
wotted not what to do. Also his burden now seemed 
heavier to him than while he was in his way. There 
came also flashes of fire out of the hill, tnat made 
Christian afraid that he should be burned: here there- 
fore he sweat, and did quake for fear. And now 
he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr Worldly 
Wiseman's counsel; and with that he saw Evangelist 

28 



CHRISTIAN AT MOUNT SINAI 

coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom he began 
to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew EvangeUstfindeth 
nearer and nearer ; and coming up to him. Christian under 
he looked upon him with a severe and dread- looketh sewr dy 
ful countenance, and thus began to reason "ponhun 
with Christian. 

Hvan. What dost thou here, Christian ? said he : at 
which words Christian knew not what to Evangelist 
answer; wherefore at present he stood reasons afresh 
speechless before him. Then said Evan- ^^ 
gelist further. Art not thou the man that I found crying 
without the walls of the City of Destruction ? 

[Chr. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little 
Wicket-gate ? 

Chr, Yes, dear sir, said Christian.] ^ 

Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned 
aside ? For thou art now out of the way. 

Chr, I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over 
the Slough of Despond, whopersuaded me that I might, in the 
village before me, find a man that could take off my burden. 

Evan. What was he ? 

Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to 
me, and got me at last to yield : so I came hither ; but 
when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I 
suddenly made a stand ; lest it should fall on my head. 

Evan. What said that gentleman to you ? 

Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going ; and I 
told him. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chr. He asked me if I had a family : and I told him. 
But, said I, I am so laden with the burden that is on my 
back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chr, He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ; 
and I told him 'twas ease that I sought : And, said I, I 

* The words in [ ] are in the third edition, but not in the eleventh. 
This fact, and also internal evidence, would favour their omission. 

29 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

am therefore going to yonder gate, to receive further 
direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So 
he said that he would show me a better way, and 
short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, 
that you set me ; which way, said he, will direct you to a 
gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these burdens : 
so I believed him, and turned out of that way into this, if 
haply I might be soon eased of my burden. But when I came 
to this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped, for 
fear (as I said) of danger : but I now know not what to do. 
Hvan. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I 
may show thee the words of God. So he 
convinces Chris- stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, 

tian of his error g^^ ^j^^^ y^ ^^^^^^ ^^^ ^-^^ ^j^^^ Speaketh : 

for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on 
earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away 
from Him that speaketh from heaven. He said, moreover. 
Now the just shall live by faith ; but if any man draw back. 
My soul shall have no pleasure in him. He also did thus 
apply them ; Thou art the man that art running into this 
misery ; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most 
High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, 
even almost to the hazarding of thy perdition. 

Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying. Woe 
is me, for I am undone ! At the sight of which Evangelist 
caught him by the right hand, saying. All manner of sin and 
blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men. Be not faithless, 
but believing. Then did Christian again a little revive, 
and stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist. 

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest 
heed to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will now 
show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was 
also to whom he sent thee. The man that met thee is one 
Mr Worldly Wise- Worldly Wiseman ; and rightly is he so 
man described by Called; partly because he ravoureth only 
Evangelist ^^^ doctrine of this world (therefore he 

always goes to the town of Morality to church) ; and partly 
because he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him best 



WORLDLY WISEMAN DESCRIBED 

from the cross : and because he is of this carnal temper, 

therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways. Evangelist dis- 
though right. Now there are three things of M^WorJuy '* 
in this man's counsel that thou must Wiseman 
utterly abhor. 

1. His turning thee out of the way. 

2. His labouring to render the cross odious to thee. 

3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth 
unto the administration of death. 

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the 
way J yea, and thine own consenting thereto; because 
this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the 
counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says. Strive 
to enter in at the strait gate ; the gate to which I send 
thee J for strait is the gate that leadeth unto life, and 
few there be that find it. From this little Wicket-gate, 
and from the way thereto, hath this wicked man turned 
thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction : hate, 
therefore, his turning thee out of the way, and abhor 
thyself for hearkening to him. 

Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the 
cross odious unto thee j for thou art to prefer it before the 
treasures of Egypt. Besides, the King of glory hath told 
thee, that he that will save his life shall lose it. And he 
that comes after Him, and hates not his father, and mother, 
and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and 
his own life also, he cannot be His disciple. I say, there- 
fore, for man to labour to persuade thee that that shall be 
thy death, without which, the truth hath said, thou canst 
not have eternal life : this doctrine thou must abhor. 

Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the 
way that leadeth to the ministration of death. And for 
this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also 
how unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden. 

He to whom thou wast sent for ease, 

b- ~ u T v^ • ^u r ^1 The Bond-woman 

emg by name Legality, is the son or the 

bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage with her 

children j and is, in a mystery, this Mount Sinai, which 

31 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now if she 
with her children are in bondage, how canst thou 
expect by them to be made free ? This Legality, 
therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. 
No man was as yet ever rid of his burden to him ; no, 
nor ever is like to be : ye cannot be justified by the 
works of the law ; for by the deeds of the law no 
man living can be rid of his burden. Therefore Mr 
Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr Legality is a cheat ; 
and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering 
looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee. Believe 
me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard 
of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy 
salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had 
set thee. After this. Evangelist called aloud to the 
heavens for confirmation of what he had said j and with 
that there came words and fire out of the mountain under 
which poor Christian stood, that made the hair of his 
flesh stand up. The words were thus pronounced. As 
many as are of the works of the law are under the curse ; 
for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not 
in all things which are written in the book of the law to 
do them. 

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began 
to cry out lamentably ; even cursing the time in which he 
met with Mr Worldly Wiseman ; still calling himself a 
thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. He also 
was greatly ashamed to think that this gentleman's 
arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the 
prevalency with him as to cause him to forsake the 
right way. This done, he applied himself again to 
Evangelist in words and sense as follows. 

Chr. Sir, what think you ? Is there any hope ? May 
I now go back, and go up to the Wicket-gate? shall 
^^ . ,. . . ^ I not be abandoned for this, and sent back 

Chnstian mquired r t i i i t t i 

if he may yet be from theuce ashamed r I am sorry I have 
^PPy hearkened to this man's counsel : but may 

my sins be forgiven ? 

32 



CHRISTIAN AT THE GATE 

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him. Thy sin is very 
great, for by it thou hast committed two evils; thou 
hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden 
paths. Yet will the man at the gate Evangelist com- 
receive thee, for he has goodwill for forts him 
men 5 only, said he, take heed that thou turn not aside 
again, lest thou perish from the way, when His wrath 
is kindled but a little. Then did Christian address 
himself to go back ; and Evangelist, after he had kissed 
him, gave him one smile, and bid him God-speed ; so 
he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by 
the way j nor if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them 
an answer. He went like one that was all the while 
treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means 
think himself safe, till again he was got into the way 
which he had left to follow Mr Worldly Wiseman's 
counsel ; so in process of time Christian got up to the 
gate. Now over the gate there was written, Knock, 
and it shall be opened unto you. 

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, 
saying. 

May I now enter here? Will he within 
Open to sorry me, though I have been 
An undeserving rebel? Then shall I 
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high. 

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named 
Goodwill, who asked who was there, and whence he 
came, and what he would have. 

Chr, Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from 
the City of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that 
I may be delivered from the wrath to come : I would 
therefore, sir, since I am informed that by this gate is 
the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in. 

Good. I am willing with all my heart, said he : and 
with that he opened the gate. ^ ^ The gate wui be 

So when Christian was stepping in, the opened to broken- 
other gave him a pull. Then said Christian, *" *"^ 
What means that ? The other told him, A little distance 

33 c 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

from this gate, there is erected a strong castle, of which 
Beelzebub is the captain : from thence both he and they 
Satanenviesthose that are With him shoot arrows at those 

*t^ait^"iY *^* ^^^' c^"^^ ^P t° *h^^ g^tSj if haply they 

may die before they can enter in. Then 
the gat" w?th7oy Said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So 
and trembling when he was got in, the man of the gate 

asked him who directed him thither. 
^ „ ^ , Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither 

HTa-Ik between 

Goodwiu and and knock, as I did : and he said, that 

Christian ^^^^ gjj.^ would tell me what I must do. 

Good. An open door is set before thee, and no man 
can shut it. 

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards. 

Good. But how is it that you came alone ? 

Chr. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, 
as I saw mine. 

Good. Did any of them know of your coming ? 

Chr. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, 
and called after me to turn again : also" some of my 
neighbours stood crying and calling after me to return ; 
but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my 
way. 

Good. But did none of them follow you, to persuade 
you to go back ? 

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable : but when they 
saw that they could not prevail. Obstinate went railing 
back, but Pliable came with me a little way. 

Good. But why did he not come through ? 

Chr. We indeed came both together until we came 
at the Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly 
fell. And then was my neighbour Pliable discouraged, and 
. . would not adventure farther. Wherefore 

A man may hare , , i • i 

company when he getting out again ou the side next to his 
heaven, sufdyet own house, he told me I should possess the 
go thither alone brave Country alone for him: so he went 
his way, and I came mine ; he after Obstinate, and I to 
this gate. 

34 




THE WICKET GATE 
So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. 



^'ALK WITH GOODWILL 

Good. Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man ! is the 
celestial glory of so small esteem with him, that he 
counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few 
difficulties to obtain it ? 

Chr, Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of 
Pliable ; and if I should also say all the _. . ^. 

, r 1 r • Ml 1 • Christian accuseth 

truth or myselr, it will appear there is no himself before the 
betterment betwixt him and myself. 'Tis "*'' ^^ **** ^*** 
true, he went back to his own house, but I also turned 
aside to go into the way of death, being persuaded 
thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr Worldly 
Wiseman. 

Good. Oh ! did he light upon you ? What ! he 
would have had you a sought for ease at the hands of Mr 
Legality ! They are both of them a very cheat. But 
did you take his counsel ? 

Chr. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out 
Mr Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands 
by his house would have fallen upon my head j wherefore 
there I was forced to stop. 

Good. That mountain has been the death of many, 
and will be the death of many more : 'tis well you escaped 
being by it dashed in pieces. 

Chr. Why truly I do not know what had become of 
me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again as I 
was musing in the midst of my dumps; but 'twas God's 
mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never 
come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, 
more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to 
stand talking with my Lord. But, oh ! what a favour is 
this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here ! 

Good. We make no objections against any, not- 
withstanding all that they have done before they come 
hither : they in no wise are cast out. 
And therefore, good Christian, come a ffi agata, and" 
little way with me, and I will teach thee directed yet on his 
about the way thou must go. Look before 
thee 5 dost thou see this narrow way f THAT is the way 

35 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

thou must go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, 
Christ and His apostles, and it is as straight as a rule can 
make it : this is the way thou must go. 

Chr. But, said Christian, are there no turnings 
Christian afraid Dor windings, by which a stranger may 

of losing his way ]ose his Way? 

Good. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon 
this ; and they are crooked and wide : but thus thou 
mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right 
only being strait and narrow. 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him 
Christian weary further, if he could uot help him off with 
of his burden ^jg burden that was upon his back. For 

as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any 
means get it off without help. 

There is node- He told him, As to thy burden, be 

Su'rnd burden''" Content to bear it, until thou comest to 
ofsin, butbvthe xhQ place of deliverance i for there it will 

death and blood of r m r i i > r • \r 

Christ tall from thy back or itselr. 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to 
address himself to his journey. So the other told him, 
that by that he was got some distance from the gate, 
he would come at the house of the Interpreter, at whose 
door he should knock, and he would show him excellent 
things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and 
he again bid him God-speed. 

Then he went on till he came at the house of the 
^, . . ^ Interpreter, where he knocked over and 

Christian comes to a i i j i 

the house of the over. At last One came to the door, and 

Interpreter ^^j^^j ^j^^ ^^^ ^j^^^.^^ 

Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaint- 
ance of the good man of this house to call here for my 
profit J I would therefore speak with the master of the house. 
So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little 
time, came to Christian, and asked him what he would 
have. 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come 
from the City of Destruction, and am going to Mount 

36 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 

Zion ; and I was told by the man that stands at the gate 
at the head of this way, that if I called here you would 
show me excellent things, such as would be an help to me 
on my journey. 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in ; I will 
show thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he 
commanded his man to light the candle. He is entertained, 
and bid Christian follow him ; so he had lUaminatioa 
him into a private room, and bid his man open a door ; the 
which when he had done. Christian saw the picture of a 
very grave person hang up against the christian sees a 
wall ; and this was the fashion of it : it '"'^^^ picture 
had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of The fashion of 
books in his hand, the law of truth was ' * p>ct»ire 
written upon his lips, the world was behind its back ; it 
stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did 
hang over its head. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this ? 

Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a 
, thousand. He can beget children, travail in birth with 
children, and nurse them himself when they are born. 
And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up to 
heaven, the best of books in his hand. The meaning of 
and the law of truth writ on his lips; tbe picture 
it is to show thee, that his work is to know, and unfold 
dark things to sinners ; even as also thou seest him 
stand as if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou 
seest the world as cast behind him, and that a crown 
hangs over his head ; that is to show thee, that slight- 
ing and despising the things that are present, for the love 
that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the 
world that comes next to have glory for his reward. 
Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed „„ . . 

, , . . /- T t Why he showed 

thee this picture first, because the man him the picture 
whose picture this is, is the only man ^^' 
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath 
authorized to be thy guide, in all difficult places thou 
mayest meet with in the way : wherefore take good heed 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

to what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind 
what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with 
some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes 
down to death. 

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very 
large parlour that was full of dust because never swept ; 
the which after he had reviewed a little while, the 
Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he 
began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, 
•that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then 
said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by. Bring 
hither the water, and sprinkle the room ; the which when 
she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this .'' 

Inter. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the 
heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace 
of the gospel. The dust is his original sin, and inward 
corruptions, that have defiled the whole man. He that 
began to sweep at first, is the Law ; but she that brought 
water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now whereas 
thou sawest, that so soon as the first began to sweep, the 
dust did so fly about, that the room by him could not be 
cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith; 
this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing 
the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put 
strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it 
doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power 
to subdue. 

Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room 
with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure; 
this is to show thee, that when the gospel comes in the 
sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart, 
then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the 
dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin 
vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean, 
through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the 
King of glory to inhabit. 

I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 

him by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat 
two little children, each one in his chair. „ . ... 

'rill T-« • J "^ showed him 

The name or the eldest was rassion, and Passion and 
the name of the other Patience. Passion 
seemed to be much discontented, but Patience was very- 
quiet. Then Christian asked. What is the reason of the 
discontent of Passion ? The Interpreter Passion wUi have 
answered. The governor of them would »ti»ow 
have him stay for his best things till the beginning of the 
next year; but he will have all now; but Patience is for 
Patience is willing to wait. waiting 

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him 
a bag of treasure, and poured it down at _ . . ^. . . 

, . r I I'll , 1 • • J Passion hath his 

his reet: the which he took up and rejoiced desire, and quickly 
therein, and withal laughed Patience to *^'* ®^* *^*^ 
scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all 
away, and had nothing left him but rags. 

Chr. Then said Christian to the Inter- The matter ex- 
preter. Expound this matter more fully pounded 
to me. 

Inter. So he said. These two lads are figures ; Passion 
of the men of this world, and Patience of the men of that 
which is to come : for as here thou seest. Passion will have 
all now, this year, that is to say, in this world ; so are the 
men of this world ; they must have all their good things 
now ; they cannot stay till next year, that is, until the 
next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, A 
bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, _, 

-. 1 . • 1 1 1 The worldly man 

is or more authority with them, than are for a bird in the 
all the Divine testimonies of the good of the 
world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly 
lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but 
rags, so will it be with all such men at the end of this world. 
Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience 
has the best wisdom, and that upon many patience had the 
accounts. I. Because he stays for the best best wisdom 
things. 2. And also because he will have the glory of 
his, when the other had nothing but rags. 

39 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of 
the next world will never wear out ; but these are suddenly 
gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh 
Thin s that are ^^ Patience, because he had his good things 
first must give lirst, a's Patience will have to laugh at 

fhatVreias?^!^ Passiou, because he had his best things 
lasting i^gf . fQj. flj-gt must give place to last, be- 

cause last must have his time to come ; but last gives place 
to nothing ; for there is not another to succeed ; he there- 
fore that hath his portion first, must needs have a time to 
Dives had his Spend it; but he that has his portion last, 

good things first must have it lastingly; therefore it is said 
of Dives, In thy life-time thou receivedst thy good things, 
and likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, 
and thou art tormented. 

Chr. Then I perceive 'tis not best to covet things 
that are now, but to wait for things to come. 

Inter. You say truth : for the things that are seen 
The first things are temporal, but the things that are not 
are but temporal gggjj ^re eternal. But though this be 
so, yet since things present and our fleshly appetite are 
such near neighbours one to another ; and again, because 
things to come and carnal sense are such strangers one 
to another ; therefore it is, that the first of these so 
suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continually 
between the second. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took 
Christian by the hand, and led him into a place where 
was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing 
by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it ; 
yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. 

Then said Christian, What means this ? 

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of 
grace that is wrought in the heart ; he that casts water 
upon it to extinguish and put it out, is the devil : but in 
that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and 
hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had 
him about to the back side of the wall, where he saw a 

40 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 

man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did 
also continually cast (but secretly) into the fire. 

Then said Christian, What means this ? 

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who con- 
tinually, with the oil of His grace, maintains the work 
already begun in the heart ; by the means of which, not- 
withstanding what the devil can do, the souls of His 
people prove gracious still. And in that thou sawest, 
that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the 
fire ; this is to teach thee, that it is hard for the 
tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in 
the soul. 

I saw also, that the Interpreter took him again by the 
hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was builded 
a stately palace, beautiful to behold ; at the sight of which 
Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the 
top thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed all 
in gold. 

Then said Christian, May we go in thither ? 

Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward 
the door of the palace ; and behold, at the door stood a 
great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. 
There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at 
a table-side, with a book and his ink-horn before him, to 
take the name of him that should enter therein ; he saw 
also that in the doorway stood many men in armour to 
keep it, being resolved to do to the men that would enter 
what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian 
somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started 
back for fear of the armed men. Christian „, 

r The valiant man 

saw a man or a very stout countenance 
come up to the man that sat there to write, saying. Set 
down my name, sir ; the which when he had done, he 
saw the man draw his sword, and put an helmet upon his 
head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who 
laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at 
all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. 
So after he had received and given many wounds to those 

41 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

that attempted to keep him out, he cuts his way through 
them all, and pressed forward into the palace ; at which 
there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were 
within, even of those that walked upon the top of the 
palace, saying. 

Come in, come in ; 

Eternal glory thou shalt win. 

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as 
they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I 
know the meaning of this. 

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said 
the Interpreter, till I have showed thee a little more, and 
after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by 
Despair like an the hand again, and led him into a very 
iron cage jaj.]^ toom, whetc there sat a man in an 

iron cage. 

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad ; he sat 
with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands 
folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his 
heart. Then said Christian, "What means this ? At 
which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. 

Chr. Then said Christian to the man. What art thou ? 
The man answered, I am what I was not once. 

Chr. What wast thou once ? 

Man. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing 
professor, both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes 
of others : I once was, as I thought, fair for the Celestial 
City, and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should 
get thither. 

Chr. Well, but what art thou now f 

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up 
in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh now I 
cannot ! 

Chr. But how earnest thou into this condition ? 

Man. I left off to watch and be sober ; I laid the 
reins upon the neck of my lusts j I sinned against the 
light of the word, and the goodness of God ; I have 

42 




THE 
TJien said Christian, 



MAN IN THE IRON 

' Is there no hope, iut y 

iron cage of despair f " 



CAGE 

ou must be tc^pf in tne 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 

grieved the Spirit, and He is gone ; I tempted the devil, 
and he is come to me ; I have provoked God to anger, 
and He has left me ; I have so hardened my heart, that I 
cannot repent. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there 
no hope for such a man as this ? Ask him, said the 
Interpreter. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you 
must be kept in the iron cage of despair ? 

Man. No, none at all. 

Chr. Why ? the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. 

Man. I have crucified Him to myself afresh. I 
have despised His person. I have despised His 
righteousness ; I have counted His blood an unholy 
thing ; I have done despite to the Spirit of grace ; 
therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises, 
and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, 
dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings of certain 
judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour me 
as an adversary. 

Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this 
condition ? 

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this 
world ; in the enjoyments of which I did then promise 
myself much delight : but now every one of those things 
also bite me, and gnaw me, like a burning worm. 

Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn ? 

Man. God hath denied me repentance. His word 
gives me no encouragment to believe ; yea. Himself hath 
shut me up in this iron cage : nor can all the men in the 
world let me out. Oh, eternity ! eternity ! how shall I 
grabble with the misery that I must meet with in 
eternity ! 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this 
man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting 
caution to thee. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help 
me to watch and be sober, and to pray, that I may shun 

43 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it not time for me 
to go on my way now ? 

Inter. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, 
and then thou shalt go on thy way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him 
into a chamber, where there was one rising out of bed ; 
and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. 

Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble ? 

The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the 
reason of his so doing. 

So he began, and said, This night, as I was in my 
sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceed- 
ing black : also it thundered and lightened in most 
fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked 
up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack, at an unusual 
rate ; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, 
and saw also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended with 
the thousands of heaven ; they were all in flaming fire ; 
also the heavens were on a burning flame. I heard 
then a voice, saying. Arise, ye dead, and come to 
judgment. 

And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, 
and the dead that were therein came forth : some of 
them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; and 
some sought to hide themselves under the mountains. 
Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud, open the 
book and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by 
reason of a fierce flame that issued out and came from 
before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, 
as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar. 

I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on 
the man that sat on the cloud, Gather together the 
tares, the chaff*, and stubble, and cast them into the 
burning lake. And with that the bottomless pit opened, 
just whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of which there 
came, in an abundant manner, smoke, and coals of fire, 
with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons. 
Gather My wheat into the garner. And with that I 

44 



CHRISTIAN AT THE CROSS 

saw many catched up and carried away in the clouds ; 
but I was left behind. I also sought to hide myself, 
but I could not ; for the man that sat upon the cloud 
still kept his eye upon me : my sins also came into 
my mind ; and my conscience did accuse me on every 
side. Upon this I awake from my sleep. 

Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of this 
sight ? 

Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was 
come, and that I was not ready for it : but this frighted 
me most, that the angels gathered up several, and left me 
behind : also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where 
I stood. My conscience too afflicted me ; and, as I 
thought, the Judge had always His eye upon me, showing 
indignation in His countenance. 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou 
considered all these things ? 

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they 
may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the 
way thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his 
loins, and to address himself to his journey. Then said 
the Interpreter, The Comforter be always with thee, good 
Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the city. 

So Christian went on his way, saying. 

Here have I seen things rare and profitable, 
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable 
In what I have begun to take in hand : 
Then let me think on them, and understand 
"Wherefore thej showed me were, and let me be 
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee. 

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which 
Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a 
wall, and that wall was called Salvation. Up this 
way, therefore did burdened Christian run, but not 
without great difficulty, because of the load on his 
back. 

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending ; 

45 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the 
bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as 
Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from 
off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to 
tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth 
of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. 
Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with 

When God re. ^ ^^^JY ^^^^^> ^^ ^^^^ given me rest 

leases us of our by His sorrow, and life by His death, 
we arenas those"' Then he stood Still awhile to look and 
that leap for joy wonder; for it was very surprising to him 
that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his 
burden. He looked therefore, and looked again, even till 
the springs that were in his head sent the waters down 
his cheeks. Now as he stood looking and weeping, 
behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and saluted 
him with Peace be to Thee. So the first said to 
him. Thy sins be forgiven thee j the second stripped 
him of his rags, and clothed him with change of 
raiment ; the third also set a mark in his forehead ; 
and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he 
bid him look on as he ran, and that he should give 
it in at the celestial gate : so they went their way. 
Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on 
singing, 

Thus far I did come laden with my sin ; 

Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, 
A Christian can Till 1 came hither: what a place is this I 

sing, though Must here be the beginning of my bliss? 

doTeiTe Wmthe Must here the burden fall from off my back? 

joy of his heart Must here the strings that bound it to me crack? 

Blessed cross ! blessed sepulchre ! blessed rather be 

The Man that there was put to shame for me! 

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even 
until he came at a bottom, where he saw, a little out of 
Simple, Sloth, and the way, three men fast asleep, with 
Presumption fetters upou their heels. The name of 

the one was Simple, another Sloth, and the third 
Presumption. 

46 




CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS BURDEN 

*Voic as h« stood lookinp and weeping., behold, three Shining Onet 

came to him 



SLOTH AND PRESUMPTION 

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to 
them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, 
You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for 
the dead sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom; 
awake, therefore, and come away ; be willing also, and 
I will help you off with your irons. He also told 
them. If he that goeth about like a roaring lion 
comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his 
teeth. With that they looked upon him, and began 
to reply in this sort : Simple said, I see no 
danger; Sloth said, Yet a little more «uaYion\dn^o'i'if 
sleeps and Presumption said. Every fat §,e'^eyel°^*'^ °°' 
must stand upon his own bottom. And 
so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on 
his way. 

Yet was he troubled to think, that men in that danger 
should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely 
offered to help them, both by awakening of them, coun- 
selling of them, and proffering to help them off with their 
irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied 
two men come tumbling over the wall on the left hand of 
the narrow way ; and they made up apace to him. The 
name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other 
Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who 
thus entered with them into discourse. 

Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither 

go you? Christian talked 

Form, and Hyp. We were born in witiithem 
the land of Vain-glory, and are going for praise to Mount 
Zion. 

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth 
at the beginning of the way ? Know you not that it is 
written, that he that cometh not in by the door, but 
climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a 
robber ? 

Form, and Hyp. They said, that to go to the gate 
for entrance was by all their countrymen counted too far 
about J and that therefore their usual way was to make a 

- 47 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

short cut of it, and to climb over the wall as they had 
done. 

Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the 
Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to violate His 
revealed will ? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, he 
needed not trouble his head thereabout : for what they 
did they had custom for, and could produce (if need were), 
testimony that would witness it, for more than a thousand 
years. 

Chr. But, said Christian, will it stand a trial at 
law ? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that custom, 
They that come it being of SO long a standing as above a 
into the way, but thousand vears, would doubtless now be 

not by the door, . -' ' . . , 

think that they admitted as a thmg legal by an impartial 
iifvin*ica°tkrnof°^ judge: and besides, say they, if we get 
their own practice Jj^^q t^g ^^y, what's matter which way 
we get in ? If we are in, we are in : thou art but in the 
way, who, as we perceive, came in at the gate j and we 
are also in the way, that came tumbling over the wall: 
wherein now is thy condition better than ours ? 

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master : you walk by 
the rude working of your fancies. You are counted 
thieves already by the Lord of the way ; therefore I 
doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the 
way. You come in by yourselves without His direction, 
and shall go out by yourselves without His mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer ; only they bid 
him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on 
every man in his way, without much conference one with 
another ; save that these two men told Christian, that as 
to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but they should 
as conscientiously do them as he. Therefore, said they, 
we see not wherein thou differest from us, but by 
the coat that is on thy back, which was, as we trow, 
given thee by some of thy neighbours, to hide the shame 
of thy nakedness. 

48 



THE HILL DIFFICULTY 

Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, 
since you came not in by the door. And as for this 
coat that is on my back, it was given me by the Lord 
of the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to 
cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of 
kindness to me; for I had nothing but christian has got 
rags before. And besides, thus I comfort his Lord's coat on 

ir T n 1 I'lT t T his back, and is 

myselr as 1 go. burely, thmk 1, when 1 comforted there- 
come to the gate of the city, the Lord '^'*'* 
thereof will know me for good, since I have His coat 
on my back; a coat that He gave me He is comforted 
freely in the day that He stript me of my also with his mark 
rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my 
forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice, 
which one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed 
there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I 
will tell to you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll 
sealed, to comfort me by reading as I go on the way ; I 
was also bid to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of 
my certain going in after it ; all which things I doubt you 
want, and want them because you came not in at the gate. 

To these things they gave him no answer ; only they 
looked upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw that 
they went on all, save that Christian kept christian has talk 
before, who had no more talk but with with himself 
himself, and that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes 
comfortably : also he would be often reading in the roll 
that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he was 
refreshed. 

I beheld then, that they all went on till they came to 
the foot of the hill Difficulty, at the He comes to the 
bottom of which was a spring. There hiii Difficulty 
were also in the same place two other ways, besides that 
which came straight from the gate : one turned to the left 
hand, and the other to the right, at the bottom of the 
hill ; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the 
name of the going up the side of the hill is called Diffi- 
culty. Christian went now to the spring, and drank 

49 o 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

thereof to refresh himself, and then began to go up the 
hill, saying, 

The hill, though high, I covet to ascend; 

The difficulty will not me offend ; 

For I perceive the way to life lies here: 

Come, pluck up, heart, let's neither faint nor fear. 

Better, though difficult, the right way to go. 

Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe. 

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But 
when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that 
there were two other ways to go ; and supposing also that 
these two ways might meet again with that up which 
Christian went, on the other side of the hill ; therefore 
they were resolved to go in those ways. Now the name 
of one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the 
The dan er of Other Destruction. So the one took the 

turning: out of the way which is called Danger, which did 
^*^ lead him into a great wood •, and the other 

took directly up the way to Destruction, which led him 
into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he 
stumbled and fell, and rose no more. 

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the hill, 
where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from 
going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because 
of the steepness of the place. Now about 
w o grace ^j^^ mid-way to the top of the hill was 
a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the hill for 
the refreshing of weary travellers. Thither, therefore. 
Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him : then 
he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his 
comfort J he also now began afresh to take a review of the 
coat or garment that was given him as he stood by the 
cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a 
slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him 
He that sleeps is i^i that place until it was almost night; 
*^°5"' and in his sleep his roll fell out of his 

hand. Now as he was sleeping, there came one to 
him, and awaked him, saying, * Go to the ant, thou 

.50 




n.IMBINO THR HTLL UIFFICULTY 

He fell *ro»i rutminp to going, and from, going to ciow'^Jring Mpofl 

/its nanus and his knees, because of the steepness of the phce. 



CHRISTIAN MISSES HIS ROLL 

sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.' And with 
that Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his 
way, and went apace till" he came to the top of the 
hill. 

Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came 
two men running to meet him amain ; the name of the one 
was Timorous, and the other Mistrust : ^, . ,. 

, y-,1 . . • 1 ri' 1 » 1 Christian meets 

to whom Christian said, birs, what s the with Mistrust and 
matter.? you run the wrong way. Timorous Timorous 
answered, that they were going to the city of Zion, and 
had got up that difficult place : but, said he, the farther 
we go, the more danger we meet with; wherefore we 
turned, and are going back again. 

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lies a couple of 
lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know 
not ; and we could not think, if we came within reach, but 
they would presently pull us in pieces. 

Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid ; but 
whither shall I fly to be safe ? If I go back to mine own 
country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I 
shall certainly perish there ; if I can go to the Celestial 
City, I am sure to be in safety there : I must venture. 
To go back is nothing but death : to go christian shakes 
forward is fear of death, and life ever- for fear 
lasting beyond it : I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and 
Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his 
way. But thinking again of what he heard from the men, 
he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein, 
and be comforted; but he felt, and found 
it not. Then was Christian in great dis- Sloii whS** 
tress, and knew not what to do; for he comfort *°**^* 
wanted that which used to relieve him, and 
that which should have been his pass into the Celestial 
City. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and 
knew not what to do. At last he be- He is perplexed 
thought himself that he had slept in the f°r his roil 
arbour that is on the side of the hill ; and, falling down 
upon his knees, he asked God forgiveness for that 

51 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

foolish factji and then went back to look for his roll. But 
all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth 
the sorrow of Christian's heart ? Sometimes he sighed, 
sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for 
being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was 
erected only for a little refreshment from his weariness. 
Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this 
side and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he 
might find the roll that had been his comfort so many times 
in his journey. He went thus till he came again within 
sight of the arbour where he sat and slept ; but that sight 
Christian bewails renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing 
his foolish sieepingr again, cvcn afresh, his evil of sleeping 
unto his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on 
bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, O wretched man that 
I am, that I should sleep in the day-time ! that I should 
sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I should so indulge 
the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh, which 
the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of 
the spirits of pilgrims ! How many steps have I took 
in vain ! Thus it happened to Israel ; for their sin they 
were sent back again by way of the Red Sea ^ and I am 
made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might 
have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful 
sleep. How far might I have been on my way by this 
time ! I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which 
I needed not to have trod but once: yea, now also I am 
like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh that 
I had not slept! 

Now by this time he was come to the arbour again. 
Christian findeth ^^^^^ for a while he sat down and wept ; 
his roll where he but at last (as Christian would have it) 
looking sorrowfully down under the settle, 
there he espied his roll, the which he, with trembling and 
haste, catched up, and put into his bosom. But who 
can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten his 
roll again ? For this roll was the assurance of his life, 

1 Old sense of the word equivalent to modern words 'deed,' 'act,* 
52 



THE PALAC^ BEAUTIFUL 

and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it 
up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eye 
to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears betook 
himself again to his journey. But oh how nimbly did 
he go up the rest of the hill ! Yet, before he got up, the 
sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again 
recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance ; and 
thus he again began to condole with himself: O thou 
sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted 
in my journey! I must walk without the sun, darkness 
must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the noise 
of the doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep ! Now 
also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous 
told him, how ':hey were frighted with the sight of the 
lions. Then said Christian to himself again. These beasts 
range in the night for their prey, and if they should meet 
with me in the dark, how should I shift them ? how should 
I escape being by them torn in pieces ? Thus he went on. 
But while he was bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he 
lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately 
palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and 
it stood by the highway-side. 

So I saw in my dream, that he made haste, and went 
forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. 
Now before he had gone far, he entered into a very 
narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the 
Porter's lodge : and looking very narrowly before him as 
he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought 
he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were 
driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw 
not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also 
himself to go back after them ; for he thought nothing 
but death was before him. But the Porter at the lodge, 
whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made 
a halt, as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, 
Is thy strength so small ? Fear not the lions, for 
they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith 
where it is, and for discovery of those that have none: 

5^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come 
unto thee. 

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the 
lions ; but taking good heed to the directions of the 
Porter, he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. 
Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came and 
stood before the gate where the Porter was. Then said 
Christian to the Porter, Sir, what house is this ? and may 
I lodge here to-night ? The Porter answered, This house 
was built by the Lord of the hill, and He built it for the 
relief and security of pilgrims. The Porter also asked 
whence he was, and whither he was going. 

Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am 
going to Mount Zion ; but because the sun is now set, I 
desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. 

Port. What is your name ? 

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at 
the first was Graceless : I came of the race of Japheth, 
whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of 
Shem. 

Port. But how doth it happen you come so late ? The 
sun is set. 

Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man 
that I am, I slept in the arbour that stands on the hill 
side ! Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here much 
sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came 
without it to the brow of the hill ; and then feeling for it, 
and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart to 
go back to the place where I slept my sleep, where I 
found it ; and now I am come. 

Port, Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this 
place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to the 
Test of the family, according to the rules of the house. 
So Watchful the Porter rang a bell, at the sound of 
which came out of the door of the house a grave and 
beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she 
was called. 

The Porter answered, This man is in a journey from 

54 



DISCOURSE WITH PIETY 

the City of Destruction to Mount Zion ; but being weary 
and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here 
to-night : so I told him I would call for thee, who, after 
discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, 
even according to the law of the house. 

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he 
was going ; and he told her. She asked him also how he 
got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked him 
what he had seen and met with in the way ; and he told 
her. And last she asked his name. So he said, It is 
Christian ; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge 
here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this place was 
built by the Lord of the hill for the relief and security of 
pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in her 
eyes ; and after a little pause she said, I will call forth 
two or three more of my family. So she ran to the door, 
and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a 
little more discourse with him, had him in to the family ; 
and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the 
house, said. Come in, thou blessed of the Lord ; this 
house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to 
entertain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, and 
followed them into the house. So when he was come 
in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and 
consented together that, until supper was ready, some of 
them should have some particular discourse with Christian, 
for the best improvement of time ; and they appointed 
Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him j and 
thus they began. 

Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been so 
loving to you to receive you in to our house pjety discourses 
this night, let us, if perhaps we may better ^"^ 
ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have 
happened to you in your pilgrimage. 

Chr. With a very good will ; and I am glad that~*yoa 
are so well disposed. 

Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself to 
a pilgrim's life ? 

55 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr, I was driven out of my native country by 
„ ^t. . ,. a dreadful sound that was in mine ears : to 

How Christian . , • i i i i • i. i i 

was driven out of Wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend 

his own country ^^^ jf j ^^^j^ j^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^ j ^^^^ 

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of 
your country this way ? 

Chr. It was as God would have it j for when I was 
under the fears of destruction, I did not know whither to 
How he goes into 8° ; but by chauce there came a man, even 
thewaytoZion jq ^^g^ ^s I was trembling and weeping, 
whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the 
Wicket-gate, which else I should never have found, and 
so set me into the way that hath led me directly to this house. 

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the 
Interpreter ? 

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the re- 
membrance of which will stick by me as 
what he saw in loug as I live, especially three things ; to 
the way ^j^^ ^^^ Christ, in despite of Satan, 

maintains His work of grace in the heart ; how the man 
had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's mercy ; 
and also the dream of him that thought in his sleep the 
day of judgment was come. 

Piety. "Why, did you hear him tell his dream ? 

Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought ; it 
made my heart ache as he was telling of it ; but yet I am 
glad I heard it. 

Piety. Was that all you saw at the house of the 
Interpreter ? 

Chr. No ; he took me, and had me where he showed 
me a stately palace, and how the people were clad in 
gold that were in it ; and how there came a venturous 
man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood 
in the door to keep him out j and how he was bid to come 
in, and win eternal glory. Methought those things did 
ravish my heart. I would have stayed at that good man's 
house a twelvemonth, but that I knew I had farther to go. 

Piety. And what saw ye else 'j the way? 

56 



DISCOURSE WITH PRUDENCE 

Chr. Saw ? Why, I went but a little farther, and I 
saw one, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon the 
tree ; and the very sight of Him made my burden fall off 
my back ; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, but 
then it fell down from off me. 'Twas a strange thing to 
me, for I never saw such a thing before : yea, and while 
I stood looking up (for then I could not forbear looking), 
three Shining Ones came to me. One of them testified 
that my sins were forgiven me ; another stripped me of my 
rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see ; and 
the third set the mark which you see in my forehead, and 
gave me this sealed roll (and with that he plucked it out 
of his bosom). 

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not ? 

Chr. The things that I have told you were the best ; 
yet some other matter I saw, as namely, I saw three 
men. Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little 
out of the way as I came, with irons upon their heels ; 
but do you think I could awake them .'' I also saw 
Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to 
go, as they pretended, to Zion ; but they were quickly 
lost, even as myself did tell them, but they would 
not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to 
get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions* 
mouth ; and truly, if it had not been for the good man 
the Porter, that stands at the gate, I do not know but 
that, after all, I might have gone back again ; but now I 
thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving of 
me. 

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few 
questions, and desired his answer to them. 

Pr. Do you not think sometimes of the prudence dis- 
country from whence you came ? courses him 

Chr. Yes ; but with much shame and detestation. 
Truly, if I had been mindful of that ^, . ^. , 

•' r 1 T T • 1 Christian's 

country from whence 1 came out, 1 might thoughts of his 
have had opportunity to have returned ; °^ '^^ *^°"° '^ 
but now I desire a better country, that is, an heavenly. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Pr. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the 
things that then you were conversant withal ? 

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially my 
Christian dis- inward and carnal cogitations, with which 

tasted with carnal all my Countrymen, as well as myself, 
cogi a ions were delighted. But, now, all those 

things are my grief; and might I but choose mine own 
^^ . ,. , ^ . things, I would choose never to think of 

Christian s choice i i • i i t i i i 

those tnmgs more; but when 1 would be 
adoing of that which is best, that which is worst is with 
me. 

Pr. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were 
vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity ? 

Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to me 
Christian's golden golden hours in which such things happen 

hours to jjjg^ 

Pr. Can you remember by what means you find your 
annoyances at times as if they were vanquished? 

Chr. Yes ; when I think what I saw at the cross, 

that will do it ; and when I look upon my 

StTpo^r*^" broidered coat, that will do it ; and when 

ru'tSns^'^ "'^" ^ ^°°^ ^"'•° ^^^ ^°^^ ^^^'- •'• carry in my bosom, 

that will do it ; and when my thoughts 

wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it. 

Pr. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go 
to Mount Zion ? 

Chr. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did 
Why Christian hang dead on the cross ; and there I hope 
would be at to be rid of all those things that to this 

Mount Zioa , . " , 

day are m me an annoyance to me : there 
they say there is no death, and there I shall dwell 
with such company as I like best. For, to tell you truth, 
I love Him because I was by Him eased of my burden ; 
and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be 
where I shall die no more, and with the company that shall 
continually cry. Holy, holy, holy. 

Charity discourses Then Said Charity to Christian, Have 
*'*™ you a family ? are you a married man ? 

58 



DISCOURSE WITH CHARITY 

Chr. I have a wife and four small children. 

Char. And why did you not bring them along with 
you ? 

Chr. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly 
would I have done it! but they were christian's love to 
all of them utterly averse to my going on his wife and 

., . ^ J & & children 

pilgrimage. 

Char. But you should have talked to them, and have 
endeavoured to have shown them the danger of being 
behind. 

Chr. So I did ; and told them also what God had 
showed to me of the destruction of our city ; but I 
seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed 
me not. 

Char. And did you pray to God that He would bless 
your counsel to them ? 

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection ; for you 
must think that my wife and poor children were very dear 
unto me. 

Char. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, and 
fear of destruction ? for I suppose that destruction was 
visible enough to you. 

Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might 
also see my fears in my countenance, in 
my tears, and also in my trembling under J/'plSng^might 
the apprehension of the judgment that did be read in his 

, ^^ , , 1 11 very countenance 

hang over our heads ; but all was not 
sufficient to prevail with them to come with me. 

Char. But what could they say for themselves why 
they came not ? 

Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, 
and my children were given to the foolish 
delights of youth ; so, what by one thing, Sl,'lfe"f^7^'' 
and what by another, they left me to children did not go 

J . y . ' , •' with hun 

wander in this manner alone. 

Char. But did you not with your vain life damp all 
that you, by words, used by way of persuasion to bring 
them away with you ? 

S9 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. Indeed I cannot commend my life, for I am 
conscious to myself of many failings therein. I know 
also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow 
_..,., . what by argument or persuasion he doth 

Christian s good J b r r i . 

conversation before labour to fasten UDon Others tor their 

his wife and children . tt-^^i-t t 

good. Yet this 1 can say, 1 was very 
wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, 
to make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for 
this very thing, they would tell me I was too precise, 
and that I denied myself of things (for their sakes) in 
which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if 
what they saw in me did hinder them, it was my great 
tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong 
to my neighbour. 

Char. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, because his 
own works were evil, and his brother's righteous ; 
Christian clear of ^^^ '^ ^hy wife and children have been 
their blood, if they offended with thee for this, they there- 
^^"^ by show themselves to be implacable 

to good J and thou hast delivered thy soul from their 
blood. 

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking 
together until supper was ready. So when they had 
What Christian made ready, they sat down to meat. Now 
had to his supper jj^g ^^^^Iq ^^^ furnished with fat things, and 
with wine that was well refined ; and all their talk at the 
table was about the Lord of the hill 5 as, namely, about 
Their talk at sup- that He had done, and whereof He did 
per time -^hm; n^ jj^^ and why He had builded that 

house ; and by what they said, I perceived that He had 
been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him 
that had the power of death, but not without great danger 
to Himself, which made me love Him the more. 

For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, He 
did it with the loss of much blood. But that which 
put glory of grace into all He did, was, that He did it 
out of pure love to his country. And besides, there 
were some of them of the household that said they had 

60 



THE WONDERS SHOWN 

been and spoke with Him since He did die on the cross ; 
and they have attested, that they had it from His own 
lips, that He is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the 
like is not to be found from the east to the west. They, 
moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed ; and 
that was. He had stripped Himself of His glory that He 
might do this for the poor; and that they heard Him 
say and affirm, that He would not dwell in the mountain 
of Zion alone. They said, moreover, that He had made 
many pilgrims princes, though by nature Christ makes 
they were beggars born, and their original P"nces of beggrars 
had been the dunghill. 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; and 
after they had committed themselves to their Lord for 
protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim 
they laid in a large upper chamber, whose christian's bed- 
window opened towards the sun-rising, chamber 
The name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till 
break of day, and then he awoke and sang. 

Where am I now? Is this the love and care 
Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are, 
Thus to provide I that I should be forgiven, 
And dwell already the next door to heaven! 

So in the morning they all got up ; and, after some more 
discourse, they told him that he should not depart till 
they had showed him the rarities of that place. And first 
they had him into the study, where they showed him the 
recordsof the greatest antiquity ; in which, ~ . ^. ^^.^ 

^ . ^ . 11 J I • Christian had into 

as 1 remember my dream, they showed him the study, and 
first the pedigree of the Lord of the hill, that ^^^"^ ^^ "^^ '^^'^ 
He was the Son of the Ancient of Days, and came by that 
eternal generation. Here also was more fully recorded 
the acts that He had done, and the names of many 
hundreds that He had taken into His service ; and how 
He had placed them in such habitations, that could 
neither by length of days, nor decays of nature, be 
dissolved. 

6i 



THE PILGRIM*S PROGRESS 

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that 
some of His servants had done ; as how they had sub- 
dued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, 
stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of 
fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were 
made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned to flight 
the armies of the aliens. 

Then they read again in another part of the records of 
the house, where it was showed how willing their Lord 
was to receive into His favour any, even any, though they 
in time past had offered great affronts to His person and 
proceedings. Here also were several other histories of 
many other famous things, of all which Christian had a 
view J as of things both ancient and modern, together 
with prophecies and predictions of things that have their 
certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement 
of enemies, and the comfort and solace of pilgrims. 

The next day they took him, and had him into 
Christian had into the armoury, where they showed him 
the armoury q\[ manner of furniture which their Lord 

had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, 
breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear 
out. And there was here enough of this to harness out 
as many men for the service or their Lord, as there be 
stars in the heaven for multitude. 

They also showed him some of the engines with 
^, . .. . . which some of His servants had done 

Christian IS made j r i i_« n-u t. j l- 

to see ancient wouderiul thmgs. 1 fiey showed him 

"*s^ Moses's rod j the hammer and nail with 

which Jael slew Sisera j the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps 
too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian. 
Then they showed him the ox's goad, wherewith Shamgar 
slew six hundred men. They showed him also the jaw- 
bone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They 
showed him moreover the sling and stone with which David 
slew Goliath of Gath, and the sword also with which their 
Lord will kill the man of sin, in the day that He shall 
rise up to the prey. They showed him besides many 

62 



CHRISTIAN IS ARMED 

excellent things, with which Christian was much dcs- 
lighted. This done, they went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got 
up to go forwards, but they desired him to stay till the 
next day also ; and then, said they, we will, if the day be 
clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ; which, they 
said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they 
were nearer the desired haven than the place where at 
present he was ; so he consented and stayed. When the 
morning was up, they had him to the top christian showed 
of the house, and bid him look south. So the Delectable 
he did, and behold at a great distance, he "* 

saw a most pleasant, mountainous country, beautified with 
woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with 
springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. Then 
he asked the name of the country. They said it was 
Immanuel's Land j and it is as common, said they, as 
this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou 
comest there, from thence, said they, thou mayest see 
to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live 
there will make appear. 

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they 
were willing he should. But first, said christian sets for- 
they, let us go again into the armoury. ^^'^^ 
So they did, and when he came there, they harnessed him 
from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps 
he should meet with assaults in the way. He being there- 
fore thus accoutred, walked out with his christian sent 
friends to the gate; and there he asked away armed 
the Porter if he saw any pilgrims pass by. Then the 
Porter answered. Yes. 

Chr. Pray did you know him ? said he. 

Port. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful. 

Chr. Oh, said Christian, I know him; he is my 
townsman, my near neighbour, he comes from the place 
where I was born. How far do you think he may be 
before ? 

Port. He is got by this time below the hilL 

63 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be 
„ „, . ^. with thee, and add to all thy blessings 

HowChnstian .' rii^i i i 

and Porter greet much increase or the kindness that thou 
at parting hast showed to me. 

Then he began to go forward j but Discretion, Piety, 
Charity and Prudence would accompany him down to the 
foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating 
their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. 
Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming up, so, so 
far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said 
Prudence, so it is ; for it is an hard matter for a man to 
The Valley of go down luto the Valley of Humiliation, as 

Humiliation j-^ou art now, and to catch no slip by the 

way ; therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany 
thee down the hill. So he began to go down, but very 
warily ; yet he caught a slip or two. 

Then I saw in my dream, that these good companions, 
when Christian was gone down to the bottom of the hill, 
gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of 
raisins ; and then he went his way. 

But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian 
was hard put to it ; for he had gone but a little way before 
he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him : 
his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be 
afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back, or to 
stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no 
Christian no armour for his back, and therefore thought 

armour for his that to turn the back to him might give 

back , . J . , ° .^ 

nim greater advantage with ease to pierce 
him with his darts ; therefore he resolved to venture, and 

Christian's resoiu- ^^^^^ ^'\ ground ; for, thought he, had I 
tion in the approach no more in mine eye than the saving of my 
po yon |.£-^^ 'twould be the best way to stand. 

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the 
monster was hideous to behold ; he was clothed with 
scales like a fish, and they are his pride ; he had wings 
like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his belly 
came fire and smoke j and his mouth was as the mouth of 

64 




CHRISTIAN CLOTHED IN ARMOUR 
Thev harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof. 



APOLLYON'S DISCOURSE 

a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him 
with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question 
with him. 

Apollyon. Whence come you, and oi^.o^rse betwixt 

whither are you bound .'' Christian and 

Chr. I am come from the City of ^° ^°° 
Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and am 
going to the City of Zion. 

Apol. By this I perceive that thou art one of my 
subjects ; for all that country is mine, and I am the prince 
and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast run away 
from thy king ? Were it not that I hope thou mayest do 
me more service, I would strike thee now at one blow to 
the ground. 

Chr. I was born, indeed, in your dominions, but 
your service was hard, and your wages such as a man 
could not live on ; for the wages of sin is death ; there- 
fore when I was come to years, I did, as other considerate 
persons do, look out, if perhaps I might mend myself. 

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose 
his subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee ; 

, . , , . r 1 • Apollyon's flattery 

but smce thou complamest or thy service 

and wages, be content to go back, and what our country 

will afford, I do here promise to give thee. 

Chr. But I have left myself to another, even to the King 
of princes j and how can I with fairness go back with thee ? 

Apol. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, 
changed a bad for a worse; but it is Apoiiyon under- 
ordinary for those that have professed values Christ's 
themselves His servants, after a while to 
give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so 
too, and all shall be well. 

Chr. I have given Him my faith, and sworn my 
allegiance to Him ; how then can I go back from this, and 
not be hanged as a traitor ? 

Apol. Thou didst the same by me, and yet I am willing 
to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back. 

Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage : and 

6$ E 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

besides, I count that the Prince, under whose banner now 
I stand, is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon also 
what I did as to my compliance with thee. And besides, 
O thou destroying ApoUyon, to speak truth, I like His 
service, His wages, His servants. His government, His 
company, and country better than thine ; therefore leave 
off to persuade me further ; I am His servant, and I will 
follow Him. 

Apol. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, 

what thou art like to meet with in the way 

the°ffnevous^nd that thou goest. Thou knowcst that for 

dissua'dfchristian the most part His servants come to an ill 

from persisting in end, because they are transgressors against 

^ me and my way. How many of them 

have been put to shameful death ! And besides, thou 
countest His service better than mine ; whereas He never 
came yet from the place where He is, to deliver any that 
served Him out of their hands ; but as for me, how many 
times, as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, 
either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served 
me, from Him and His, though taken by them ! And so I 
will deliver thee. 

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them, is on 
purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave to Him 
to the end ; and as for the ill end thou sayest they come 
to, that is the most glorious in their account. For, for 
present deliverance, they do not much expect it ; for they 
stay for their glory ; and then they shall have it, when 
their Prince comes in His, and the glory of the angels, 

Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service 
to Him J and how dost thou think to receive wages of Him ? 

Chr. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful 
to Him ? 

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when 
. „ , ^ thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of 

ApoUyon pleads _. , ,^, ... 

Christian's infirmi- JJespond. 1 hou didst attempt wrong 
ties against him ^^^^ ^^ ^^ ^.j^ ^f j^y burden, whereas 

thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had taken it ofE 

66 



CHRISTIAN AND APOLLYON 

Thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice things. 
Thou wast also almost persuaded to go back at the sight 
of the lions. And when thou talkest of thy journey, and 
of what thou hast heard and seen, thou art inwardly 
desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest or doest. 

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou hast 
left out ; but the Prince whom I serve and honour is 
merciful and ready to forgive. But besides, these infirmities 
possessed me in thy country ; for there I sucked them in, 
and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and 
have obtained pardon of my Prince. 

Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, 
saying, I am an enemy to this Prince ; I « „ 

1 ?T- TT- 1 J IT Apollyon, in a 

hate His person, tiis laws, and people; 1 ragre, fails upoa 

• 1 1 Cbristiaa 

am come out on purpose to withstand 
thee. 

Chr, Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the 
King's highway, the way of holiness j therefore take heed 
to yourself. 

Apol. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole 
breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this 
matter. Prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by my 
infernal den, that thou shalt go no farther : here will I 
spill thy soul. — And with that he threw a flaming dart at 
his breast ; but Christian had a shield in his hand, with 
which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that. 

Then did Christian draw, for he saw 'twas time to 
bestir him ; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing 
darts as thick as hail ; by the which, notwithstanding all 
that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded 
him in his head, his hand, and foot. This 
made Christian give a little back : Apoll- SlfundlrTt^d- 
yon, therefore, followed his work amain, conve^rsation*^ 
and Christian again took courage, and re- 
sisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted 
for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite 
spent. For you must know, that Christian, by reason of 
his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker. 

67 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to 
gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave 
, ,, , ,, him a dreadful fall : and with that Chris- 

ApoUyon casteth . ' r l- l j t-l 

Christian down to tian 8 sword ilew out ot his hand. Ihen 
t egroun ^^.j Apollyon, I am sure of thee now. 

And with that he had almost pressed him to death ; 
so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as 
God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his 
last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good 
man. Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his 
sword, and caught it, saying. Rejoice not against me, 
O mine enemy : when I fall, I shall arise ; and with 
Christian's victory that gave him a deadly thrust, which 
over Apollyon made him give back, as one that had 

received his mortal wound. Christian perceiving that, 
made at him again, saying. Nay, in all these things 
we are more than conquerors through Him that loved 
us. And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's 
wings, and sped him away, that Christian saw him no 
more. 

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had 
... J . . J seen and heard as I did, what yelling and 
the combat by the hideous Toaring Apollyon made all the 
spec a or ^.j^^ ^^ ^■^^ fight ; he Spake like a dragon : 

and on the other side what sighs and groans burst from 
Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give so 
much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had 
wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then, 
indeed, he did smile, and look upward ; but 'twas the 
dreadfullest fight that ever I saw. 

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here 
^. . ,. . give thanks to Him that hath delivered 

Christian gives <=> t r i i- tt- 

God thanks for his me out ot the mouth or the lion ; to rim 
e iverance ^.j^^^. jj^ j^^j^ ^^ against Apollyon. And 

so he did, saying. 

Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend. 
Designed my ruin ; therefore to this end 

68 



THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 

He sent him harnessed out, and he with rage, 
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage: 
But blessed Michael helped me, and I, 
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly: 
Therefore to Him let me give lasting praise, 
And thank and bless His holy name always. 

Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves 
of the tree of life, the which Christian took, and applied 
to the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was 
healed immediately. He also sat down in that place 
to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given 
him a little before ; so being refreshed, he addressed him- 
self to his journey, with his sword drawn 

f.i jrL *jTi A. Christian g-oes on 

iQ his hand; tor, he said, 1 know not in his journey with 
but some other enemy may be at hand. I'^^h-^nd'*'^'' 
But he met with no other affront from 
ApoUyon quite through this valley. 

Now at the end of this valley was another, called 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death; and The Vaiiey of the 
Christian must needs go through it, be- Shadow of Death 
cause the way to the Celestial City lay through the midst 
of it. Now this valley is a very solitary place : the 
prophet Jeremiah thus describes it : A wilderness, a 
land of deserts and of pits, a land of drought, and of the 
Shadow of Death, a land that no man, but a Christian, 
passeth through, and where no man dwelt. 

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his 
fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. 

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got 
on the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met 
him two men, children of them that The children of the 
brought up an evil report of the good land, ^P'^^ s° ^^'^^ 
making haste to go back ; to whom Christian spake as 
follows. 

Chr. Whither are you going ? 

Men. They said, Back, back, and we would have you 
do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you. 

Chr. Why, what's the matter ? said Christian. 
.69 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Men. Matter ? said they j we were going that way 
as you are going, and went as far as we durst : and 
indeed we were almost past coming back j for had we 
gone a little farther, we had not been here to bring the 
news to thee. 

Chr. But what have you met with ? said Christian. 

Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death, but that by good hap we looked before 
us, and saw the danger before we came to it. 

Chr. But what have you seen ? said Christian. 

Men. Seen ? why, the valley itself, which is as dark 
as pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and 
dragons of the pit : we heard also in that valley a con- 
tinual howling and yelling, as of a people under unutter- 
able misery, who were sat bound in affliction and irons ; 
and over that valley hangs the discouraging clouds of 
confusion : death also doth always spread his wings over 
it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly 
without order. 

Chr. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by 
what you have said, but that this is my way to the 
desired haven. 

Men. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for 
ours. 

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but 
still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he 
should be assaulted. 

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached, 
there was on the right hand a very deep ditch ; that 
ditch is it, into which the blind hath led the blind in 
all ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again, 
behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag, 
into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom 
for his foot to stand on : into this quag King David once 
did fall, and had no doubt there been smothered, had 
not He that is able plucked him out. 

The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and 
therefore good Christian was the more put to it j for when 

70. 



HORRORS OF THIS VALLEY 

he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one hand, 
he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other : also 
when he sought to escape the mire, without great careful- 
ness he would be ready to fall into the ditch Thus 
he went on, and I heard him here sigh bitterly j for 
besides the danger mentioned above, the pathway was 
here so dark, that ofttimes, when he lift up his foot 
to go forward, he knew not where, nor upon what he 
should set it next. 

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of 
hell to be, and it stood also hard by the way-side. Now, 
thought Christian, what shall I do ? And ever and anon 
the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, 
with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for 
Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that he was 
forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another 
weapon, called All-prayer, so he cried, in my hearing, 
O Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul. Thus he 
went on a great while, yet still the flames would be 
reaching towards him ; also he heard doleful voices, 
and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he 
should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the 
streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dread- 
ful noises were heard by him, for several miles together ; 
and coming to a place where he thought he heard a com- 
pany of fiends coming forward to meet christian 
him, he stopped, and began to muse what stand but for a 
he had best to do. Sometimes he had ^ *® 
half a thought to go back ; then again he thought he 
might be half way through the valley. He remembered 
also, how he had already vanquished many a danger ; and 
that the danger of going back might be much more 
than for to go forward. So he resolved to go on ; 
yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But 
when they were come even almost at him, he cried out 
with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the strength 
of the Lord God. So they gave back, and came no 
farther. 

71 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that now 
poor Christian was so confounded, that he did not know 
his own voice ; and thus I perceived it. Just when he 
was come over against the mouth of the 
beiieve*that*he burning pit, one of the wicked ones got 

spake bias- behind him, and stepped up softly to 

phemies, when , . , . . . , * , 

'twas Satan that him, and, whispermgly, suggested many 
int^^hfsmind^" grievous blasphemies to him, which he 
verily thought had proceeded from his 
own mind. This put Christian more to it than any thing 
that he met with before, even to think that he should now 
blaspheme Him that he loved so much before. Yet if he 
could have helped, he would not have done it ; but he had 
not the discretion either to stop his ears, nor to know from 
whence those blasphemies came. 

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate con- 
dition some considerable time, he thought he heard the 
voice of a man, going before him, saying, Though I 
walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will 
fear none ill, for Thou art with me. 

Then was he glad, and that for these reasons : 

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some who 
feared God were in this valley as well as himself. 

Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them, 
though in that dark and dismal state. And why not, 
thought he, with me ? though by reason of the impedi- 
ment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it. 

Thirdly, For that he hoped (could he overtake them) 
to have company by and by. So he went on, and called 
to him that was before ; but he knew not what to answer. 
Christian eiad at for that he also thought himself to be 
break of day aloue. And by and by the day broke : then 

said Christian, He hath turned the shadow of death into 
the morning. 

Now morning being come, he looked back, not of 
desire to return, but to see, by the light of the day, what 
hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he saw 
more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the 

^3 




IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH 

So he cned in viy hearing, " O Lord, I beseech Thee, 

deliver my aoul." 



THE GIANTS OF THE VALLEY 

quag that was on the other ; also how narrow the way 
was which led betwixt them both. Also now he saw the 
hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the pit, but all afar 
ofFj for after break of day they came not nigh, yet they 
were discovered to him, according to that which is written, 
He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth 
out to light the shadow of death. 

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance 
from all the dangers of his solitary way j which dangers, 
though he feared them more before, yet he saw them 
more clearly now, because the light of the day made them 
conspicuous to him. And about this time the sun was 
rising, and this was another mercy to Christian ; for you 
must note, that though the first part of the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet this „, . ^ 

, I'll The second part 

second part, which he was yet to go, was, of this vaiiey very 
if possible, far more dangerous ; for, from ^ngerous 
the place where he now stood, even to the end of the 
valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, 
gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, 
and shelvings down there, that had it now been dark, as 
it was when he came the first part of the way, had he had 
a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away ; but, 
as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said he. 
His candle shineth on my head, and by His light I go 
through darkness. 

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the 
valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of this 
valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mingled bodies of men, 
even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly j and 
while I was musing what should be the reason, I espied a 
little before me a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagan, 
dwelt in old time ; by whose power and tyranny the men, 
whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay there, were cruelly put 
to death. But by this place Christian went without much 
danger, whereat I somewhat wondered j but I have learnt 
since, that Pagan has been dead many a day ; and as for 
thp other, though he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in 
his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints, 
that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, 
grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails 
because he cannot come at them. 

So I saw that Christian went on his way ; yet, at the 
sight of the old man that sat in the mouth of the cave, he 
could not tell what to think, especially because he spake 
to him, though he could not go after him, saying, You 
will never mend till more of you be burned. But he held 
his peace, and set a good face on't, and so went by, and 
catched no hurt. Then sang Christian : 

O world of wonders (I can say no less), 

That I should be preserved in that distress 

That I have met with here 1 O blessed be 

That hand that from it hath delivered me ! 

Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, 

Did compass me, while I this vale was in ; 

Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie 

My path about, that worthless, silly I 

Might have been catched, entangled, and cast down: 

But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown. 

Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little 
ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might 
see before them: up there, therefore. Christian went; and 
looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his 
journey. Then said Christian aloud. Ho, ho ; so-ho ; stay, 
and I will be your companion. At that Faithful looked 
behind him ; to whom Christian cried, Stay, stay, till I 
come up to you. But Faithful answered. No, I am upon 
my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me. 

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to 
Christian over- ^ll his Strength, he quickly got up with 
takes Faithful Faithful, and did also overrun him; so the 

last was first. Then did Christian vaingloriously smile, 
because he had gotten the start of his brother ; but not 
taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and 
fell, and could not rise again until Faithful came up to 
help him. 

74 



CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on 
together, and had sweet discourse of all 
things that had happened to them in makes^F^aftWui 
their pilgrimage; and thus Christian toggJhef ° ^"''"'^'^ 
began. 

Chr. My honoured and well-beloved brother Faithful, 
I am glad that I have overtaken you, and that God has so 
tempered our spirits, that we can walk as companions in 
this so pleasant a path. 

Faith. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your 
company quite from our town j but you did get the start 
of me ; wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the 
way alone. 

Chr. How long did you stay in the City of Destruc- 
tion, before you set out after me on your pilgrimage ? 

Faith. Till I could stay no longer ; for there was 
great talk presently after you were gone Their talk about 
out, that our city would, in short time, the country from 

• 1 n r 1 T_i_ jj ^ whence they came 

With nre from heaven be burned down to 
the ground. 

Chr. What ! did your neighbours talk so ? 

Faith. Yes, 'twas for a while in everybody's mouth. 

Chr. What ! and did no more of them but you come 
out to escape the danger ? 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk 
thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe it. 
For in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them 
deridingly speak of you, and of your desperate journey ; 
for so they called this your pilgrimage. But I did believe, 
and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and 
brimstone from above ; and therefore I have made my 
escape. 

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable ? 

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you 
till he came at the Slough of Despond, where, as some 
said, he fell in ; but he would not be known to have so 
done ; but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that 
kind of dirt. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. And what said the neighbours to him ? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had 
How Pliable was greatly in derision, and that among all 
accounted of when sorts of people I some do mock and 

he grot home j • u- j -n ^ l- 

despise him, and scarce will any set him 
on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had 
never gone out of the city. 

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since 
they also despise the way that he forsook .'* 

Faith. Oh, they say. Hang him ; he is a turncoat ; he 
was not true to his profession ! I think God has stirred 
up even his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a 
proverb, because he hath forsaken the way. 

Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came 
out? 

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered 
away on the other side, as one ashamed of what he had 
done J so I spake not to him. 

Chr. Well, at my first setting out I had hopes of that 
man ; but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of 
the city. For it has happened to him according to the true 
^, , proverb. The dog is turned to his vomit 

The dog and sow ^ . , , ° , i j i 

agam, and the sow that was washed to her 
wallowing in the mire. 

Faith. They are my fears of him too ; but who can 
hinder that which will be ? 

Chr. Well, neighbour Faithful, said Christian, let us 
leave him, and talk of things that more immediately con- 
cern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met with in 
the way as you came ; for I know you have met with some 
things, or else it may be writ for a wonder. 

Faith. I escaped the slough that I perceived you fell 
into, and got up to the gate without that danger ; on4y I 
Faithful assriuited ^^^ "^'^^ one whose name was Wanton, 
by Wanton ^ho had like to have done me a mis- 

chief. 

Chr. 'Twas well you escaped her net ; Joseph was 
hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as you did j but 

.7^ 



CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

It had like to have cost him his life. But what did she do 
to you ? 

Faith. You cannot think (but that you know some- 
thing) what a flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me 
hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of 
content. 

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a 
good conscience. 

Faith. You know that I mean all carnal and fleshly 
content. 

Chr. Thank God you have escaped her ; the abhorred 
of the Lord shall fall into her ditch. 

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape 
her or no. 

Chr. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her 
desires ? 

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered 
an old writing that I had seen, which said. Her steps 
take hold of hell. So I shut mine eyes, because I 
would not be bewitched with her looks. Then she railed 
on me, and I went my way. 

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you came ? 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called 
Difficulty, I met with a very aged man. He is assaulted 
who asked me what I was, and whither by Adam the first 
bound. I told him that I am a pilgrim, going to the 
Celestial City. Then said the old man. Thou lookest 
like an honest fellow ; wilt thou be content to dwell with 
me, for the wages that I shall give thee .'' Then I asked 
him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name 
was Adam the first, and that he dwelt in the town of 
Deceit. I asked him then, what was his work, and 
what the wages that he would give. He told me, that 
his work was many delights ; and his wages, that 
I should be his heir at last. I further asked him, what 
house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he 
told me, that his house was maintained with all the 
dainties in the world, and that his servants were those of 

77 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

his own begetting. Then I asked how many children 
he had. He said that he had but three daughters, the 
Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of 
Life, and that I should marry them, if I would. Then 
I asked how long time he would have me live with him, 
and he told me, as long as he lived himself. 

Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the old man 
and you to at last? 

Faith. Why, at first I found myself somewhat 
inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he spake 
very fair ; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with 
him, I saw there written. Put off the old man with his 
deeds. 

Chr. And how then ? 

Faith, Then it came burning hot into my mind, 
whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he got 
me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave. So 
I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the 
door of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me 
that he would send such a one after me that should make 
my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from 
him } but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him 
take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch 
back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after 
himself: this made me cry, O wretched man ! So I 
went on my way up hill. 

Now when I had got about half way up, I looked 
behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the 
wind ; so he overtook me just about the place where the 
settle stands. 

Chr. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to 
rest me j but being overcome with sleep, I there lost this 
roll out of my bosom. 

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as 
the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow ; for 
down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I 
was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore 
he served me so. He said, because of my secret inclining 

78 



CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

to Adam the first. And with that he struck me another 
deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward ; 
so I lay at his foot as dead as before. So when I came to 
myself again, I cried him mercy : but he said, I know not 
how to show mercy ; and with that knocked me down 
again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that 
One came by, and bid him forbear. 

Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear ? 

Faith. I did not know Him at first ; but as He went 
by, I perceived the holes in His hands and His side : then 
I concluded that He was our Lord. So I went up 
the hill. 

Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He 
spareth none; neither knoweth he how The temper of 
to show mercy to those that transgress Moses 
his law. 

Faith. I know it very well; it was not the first time 
that he has met with me. 'Twas he that came to me 
when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would 
burn my house over my head if I stayed there. 

Chr. But did not you see the house that stood there, on 
the top of the hill on the side of which Moses met you .? 

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. 
But for the lions, I think they were asleep, for it was 
about noon ; and because I had so much of the day 
before me, I passed by the Porter, and came down 
the hill. 

Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by ; but 
I wish that you had called at the house, for they would 
have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce 
have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell 
me, did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would 
wilHngly have persuaded me to go back Faithful assaulted 
again with him: his reason was, for that by Discontent 
the valley was altogether without honour. He told me, 
moreover, that there to go was the way to disobey all 
my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceit, "Worldly 

79 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Glory, with others, who he knew, as he said, would be 
very much offended, if I made such a fool of myself as to 
wade through this valley. 

Chr. "Well, and how did you answer him ? 

Faith. I told him, that although all these that he 
Faithful's answer named might claim a kindred of men, and 
to Discontent ^^t rightly (for indeed they were my 

relations according to the flesh), yet since I became a 
pilgrim, they have disowned me, and I also have rejected 
them ; and therefore they were to me now no more than 
if they had never been of my lineage. I told him, 
moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite mis- 
represented the thing ; for before honour is humility, 
and a haughty spirit before a fall. Therefore, said I, I 
had rather go through this valley to the honour that was 
so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which he 
esteemed most worth our affections. 

Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but of all the men 
He is assaulted that I met with in my pilgrimage, he, I 
with Shame think, bears the wrong name. The other 

would be said nay, after a little argumentation, and some- 
what else ; but this bold-faced Shame would never have 
done. 

Chr. Why, what did he say to you ? 

Faith. What ? why he objected against religion itself. 
He said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man 
to mind religion. He said, that a tender conscience was 
an unmanly thing ; and that for a man to watch over his 
words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that hectoring 
liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom them- 
selves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. 
He objected also, that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise 
were ever of my opinion ; nor any of them neither, before 
they were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary 
fondness to venture the loss of all, for nobody else knows 
what. He, moreover, objected the base and low estate and 
condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the 

80 



CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

times in which they lived ; also their ignorance and want 
of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold 
me to it at that rate also about a great many more things 
than here I relate ; as, that it was a shame to sit whining 
and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come sighing 
and groaning home j that it was a shame to ask my neigh- 
bour forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution 
where I have taken from any. He said also, that religion 
made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few 
vices (which he called by finer names), and made him 
own and respect the base, because of the same religious 
fraternity : and is not this, said he, a shame ? 

Chr. And what did you say to him ? 

Faith. Say ? I could not tell what to say at first. 
Yea, he put me so to it, that my blood came up in my 
face J even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost 
beat me quite off. But at last I began to consider, 
that that which is highly esteemed among men, is had 
in abomination with God. And I thought again. This 
Shame tells me what men are ; but it tells me nothing 
what God, or the word of God, is. And I thought, 
moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed 
to death or life, according to the hectoring spirits of the 
world, but according to the wisdom and law of the 
Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best, 
is best, though all the men in the world are against it. 
Seeing, then, that God prefers His religion j seeing God 
prefers a tender conscience ; seeing they that make them- 
selves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest, and 
that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the 
greatest man in the world that hates Him j Shame, 
depart, thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall I 
entertain thee against my sovereign Lord .'* how then shall I 
look Him in the face at His coming .'' Should I now be 
ashamed of His ways and servants, how can I expect the 
blessing ? But indeed this Shame was a bold villain ; I 
could scarce shake him out of my company j yea, he 
would be haunting of me, and continually whispering me 

8l F 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

in the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that 
attend religion. But at last I told him 'twas but in vain 
to attempt further in this business ; for those things that 
he disdained, in those did I see most glory : and so at last 
1 got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken 
him oiF, then I began to sing : 

The trials that those men do meet withal, 

That are obedient to the heavenly call, 

Are manifold, and suited to the flesh, 

And come, and come, and come again afresh ; 

That now, or sometimes else, we by them may 

Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 

O let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then. 

Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men I 

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand 
this villain so bravely ; for of all, as thou sayest, I think 
he has the wrong name ; for he is so bold as to follow us 
in the streets, and to attempt to put us to shame before all 
men ; that is, to make us ashamed of that which is good. 
But if he was not himself audacious, he would never 
attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him; 
for notwithstanding all his bravadoes, he promoted the 
fool, and none else. The wise shall inherit glory, said 
Solomon ; but shame shall be the promotion of fools. 

Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against 
Shame, that would have us be valiant for truth upon the 
earth. 

Chr. You say true ; but did you meet nobody else in 
that valley ? 

Faith. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of 
the way through that, and also through the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death. 

Chr. 'Twas well for you ; I am sure it fared far 
otherwise with me. I had for a long season, as soon 
almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat 
with that foul fiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily he 
would have killed me, especially when he got me down, 
and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed 
me to pieces j for as he threw me, my sword flew out of 



TALKATIVE AND FAITHFUL 

my hand ; nay, he told me he was sure of me ; but I cried 
to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my 
troubles. Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death, and had no light for almost half the way through 
it. I thought I should have been killed there over and 
over ; but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I went 
through that which was behind with far more ease and 
quiet. 

Moreover I saw in my dream, that as they went on. 
Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man 
whose name is Talkative, walking at a distance besides 
them ; for in this place there was room enough for them 
all to walk. He was a tall man, and Talkative 
something more comely at a distance than described 
at hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this 
manner. 

Faith. Friend, whither away ? Are you going to the 
heavenly country ? 

Talk. I am going to the same place. 

Faith. That is well j then I hope we shall have your 
good company ? 

Talk. With a very good will will I be your companion. 

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go _ .^^, . ^ 

, , , , . '-i Faithful and 

together, and let us spend our time in Talkative enter 
discoursing of things that are profitable. discourse 

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very 
acceptable, with you, or with any other ; and I am glad 
that I have met with those that incline to so good a 
work; for, to speak the truth, there are xaikative's dislike 
but few who care thus to spend their time of bad discourse 
as they are in their travels, but choose much rather to be 
speaking of things to no profit; and this hath been a 
trouble to me. 

Faith. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented ; for 
what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth 
of men on earth, as are the things of the God of heaven ? 

Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings are 
full of conviction ; and I will add. What thing is so pleasant, 

83 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of God ? 
What things so pleasant ? that is, if a man hath any de- 
light in things that are wonderful. For instance : if a 
man doth delight to talk of the history, or the mystery of 
things ; or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, 
or signs, where shall he find things recorded so delight- 
ful, and so sweetly penned, as in the Holy Scripture ? 

Faith. That is true ; but to be profited by such 
things in our talk, should be our chief design. 

Talk. That is it that I said 5 for to talk of such things 
Taikatire's fine is most profitable ; for by so doing, a man 
discourse jjjay get knowledge of many things; as of 

the vanity of earthly things, and the benefit of things 
above. Thus in general ; but more particular, by this 
a man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the in- 
sufficiency of our works, the need of Christ's righteous- 
ness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it 
is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the 
like : by this, also, a man may learn what are the great 
promises and consolations of the gospel, to his own 
comfort. Further, by this a man may learn to refuse 
false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct 
the ignorant. 

Faith. All this is true ; and glad am I to hear these 
things from you. 

Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so few 
understand the need of faith, and the necessity of a work 
of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life ; but 
ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which a man 
can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven. 

Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of 
these is the gift of God ; no man attaineth to them by 
human industry, or only by the talk of them. 

Talk. All that I know very well, for a man can 
O brave Taika- receive nothing, except it be given him 
tive I from heaven ; all is of grace, not of 

works. I could give you a hundred scriptures for the 
confirmation of this. 

84 



TALKATIVE'S CHARACTER 

Faith. "Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one 
thing that we shall at this time found our discourse 
upon? 

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things heavenly, 
or things earthly j things moral, or things q brave Taika- 
evangelical ; things sacred, or things pro- t'^« ' 
fane j things past, or things to come ; things foreign, or 
things at home ; things more essential, or things circum- 
stantial ; provided that all be done to our profit. 

Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and 
stepping to Christian (for he walked all Faithful be^uUed 
this while by himself), he said to him, by Talkative 
but softly. What a brave companion have we got ! 
Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim. 

Chr. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said. 
This man, with whom you are so taken, ^^ . ,. 

.,ii_ M -ii- n • Christian makes a 

Will beguile with this tongue or his twenty discoverv of Taik- 
of them that know him not. Falthfuite he 

Faith. Do you know him then ? ^^^ 

Chr. Know him ? Yes, better than he knows himself. 

Faith. Pray what is he ? 

Chr. His name is Talkative : he dwelleth in our town. 
I wonder that you should be a stranger to him j only I 
consider that our town is large. 

Faith. Whose son is he ? And whereabout doth he 
dwell ? 

Chr. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in 
Prating Row, and he is known of all that are acquainted 
with him by the name of Talkative, in Prating Row ; 
and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry 
fellow. 

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. 

Chr. That is, to them that have not thorough 
acquaintance with him, for he is best abroad ; near home . 
he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man, 
brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of 
the painter, whose pictures show best at a distance, but 
very near more unpleasing. 

85 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest, 
because you smiled. 

Chr. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) 
in this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely. I will 
give you a further discovery of him. This man is for any 
company, and for any talk ; as he talketh now with you, 
so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench ; and the more 
drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he 
hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, 
or house, or conversation j all he hath lieth in his tongue, 
and his religion is to make a noise therewith. 

Faith. Say you so ? Then am I in this man greatly 
deceived. 

Chr. Deceived ! you may be sure of it. Remember 
Talkative talks, the proverb. They say, and do not; 
but does not buj- j-hg kingdom of God is not in word, 

but in power. He talketh of prayer, of repentance, 
of faith, and of the new birth ; but he knows but 
only to talk of them. I have been in his family, 
and have observed him both at home and abroad ; 
His house is empty ^^^ I know what I Say of him is the 
ofreiigion truth. His house is as empty of religion, 

as the white of an egg is of savour. There is there 
neither prayer, nor sign of repentance for sin ; yea, the 
He is a stain to brute, in his kind, serves God far better 
religion ^\^^^ }^e^ f^g jg t^g very stain, re- 

proach, and shame of religion to all that know him, 
it can hardly have a good word in all that end of the 
town where he dwells, through him. Thus say the 
The proverb that common people that know him, A saint 
goes of him abroad, and a devil at home. His poor 

family finds it so j he is such a churl, such a raller at, and 
so unreasonable with, his servants, that they neither know 
how to do for nor speak to him. Men that have any 
Men shun to deal dealings with him say, It's better to deal 
with him with a Turk than with him, for fairer 

dealing they shall have at their hands. This Talkative 
(if it be possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, 

86 




TALKATIVE 
What you will 1 will talk of things heavenly, or things earthly; 
things moral, or things evangelical." 



TALKATIVE'S CHARACTER 

and overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to 
follow his steps ; and if he finds in any of them a foolish 
timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance of a 
tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads, 
and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to 
their commendation before others. For my part, I am of 
opinion, that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to 
stumble and fall ; and will be, if God prevents not, the 
ruin of many more. 

Faith. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you, 
not only because you say you know him, but also because, 
like a Christian, you make your reports of men. For I 
cannot think that you speak these things of ill-will, but 
because it is even so as you say. 

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might, 
perhaps, have thought of him as at the first you did ; yea, 
had I received this report at their hands only, that are 
enemies to religion, I should have thought it had been a 
slander, — a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon 
good men's names and professions. But all these things, 
yea, and a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge, 
I can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed 
of him ; they can neither call him brother nor friend j the 
very naming of him among them makes them blush, if they 
know him. 

Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two 
things, and hereafter I shall better observe this dis- 
tinction. 

Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse 
as are the soul and the body ; for as the body without the 
soul is but a dead carcase, so saying, if it xhe carcase of 
be alone, is but a dead carcase also. The religion 
soul of religion is the practical part. Pure religion and 
undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the 
fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself 
unspotted from the world. This Talkative is not aware of; 
he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian; 
and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the 

8; 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

sowing of the seed ; talking is not sufficient to prove that 
fruit is indeed in the heart and hfe. And let us assure 
ourselves, that at the day of doom, men shall be judged 
according to their fruit. It will not be said then, Did 
you believe ? but, Were you doers, or talkers only ? 
and accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the 
world is compared to our harvest, and you know men 
at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that any thing 
can be accepted that Is not of faith ; but I speak this to 
show you how insignificant the profession of Talkative 
will be at that day. 

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by 
which he describeth the beast that is clean. He is 
such an one that parteth the hoof, and cheweth the 
cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth 
the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is 
unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this 
_ truly resembleth Talkative : he cheweth 

vinced of the bad- the cud, he seekcth knowledge ; he cheweth 

ness of Talkative ^^^^ ^j^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^ divldeth not the 

hoof. He parteth not with the way of sinners j but, as the 
hare, he retalneth the foot of a dog or bear, and therefore 
is unclean. 

Chr. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true 
gospel sense of those texts. And I will add another 
_ ,. ,. ... ^ thins: : Paul calleth some men, yea, and 

Talkative like two <=> j . / 

things that sound those great talkers too, sounding brass, 
without life ^^^ tinkling cymbals, that is, as he 

expounds them in another place, things without life, 
giving sound. Things without life ; that Is, without 
the true faith and grace of the gospel ; and, consequently, 
things that shall never be placed in the kingdom of 
heaven among those that are the children of life, though 
their sound, by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or 
voice of an angel. 

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at 
first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we do to be 
rid of him ? 



FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE 

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you 
shall find that he will soon be sick of your company too, 
except God shall touch his heart, and turn it. 

Faith. What would you have me to do ? 

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious 
discourse about the power of religion, and ask him 
plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will), 
whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or 
conversation. 

'^aith. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said 
to Talkative, Come, what cheer ? How is it now ? 

Talk. Thank you, well : I thought we should have 
had a great deal of talk by this time. 

Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ; and 
since you left it with me to state the question, let it be 
this : How doth the saving grace of God discover itself, 
when it is in the heart of man ? 

Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about 
the power of things. Well, 'tis a very TaikatiTe's false 
good question, and I shall be willing to discovery of a 

" ^ A J 1 • work of jrace 

answer you. And take my answer m 
brief, thus. First, where the grace of God is in the 
heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin. 
Secondly 

Faith. Nay, hold, let us consider of one at once. I 
think you should rather say. It shows itself by inclining 
the soul to abhor its sin. 

Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying 
out against, and abhorring of sin ? 

Faith. Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out against 
sin, of policy : but he cannot abhor it but ti,» .™:„„. „„* 

1 . r .1 . . The crying out 

by Virtue or a godly antipathy against it. against sin no 
I have heard many cry out against sin in *'^" ° ^^^^^ 
the pulpit, who can yet abide it well enough in the heart, 
house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with 
a loud voice, as if she had been very holy ; but she would 
willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed unclean- 
ness with him. Some cry out against sin, even as the 

8i? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she 
calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging 
and kissing it. 

Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 

Faith. No, not I ; am only for setting things right. 
But what is the second thing whereby you would prove a 
discovery of a work of grace in the heart ? 

Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. 

Faith. This sign should have been first; but first or 
Great knowledge ^^st, it is also false ; for knowledge, great 
no sign of grace knowledge, may be obtained in the mys- 
teries of the gospel, and yet no work of grace in 
the soul. Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he 
may yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no child 
of God. When Christ said. Do you know all these 
things ? and the disciples had answered. Yes, He 
added. Blessed are ye if ye do them. He doth not 
lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but in the 
Knowledge and doing of them. For there is a know- 
knowledge ledge that is not attended with doing: 
He that knoweth his Master's will, and doeth it not. 
A man may know like an angel, and yet be no 
Christian ; therefore your sign of it is not true. In- 
deed, to know, is a thing that pleaseth talkers and 
boasters ; but to do, is that which pleaseth God. Not 
that the heart can be good without knowledge, for 
without that the heart is naught. There is, therefore, 
knowledge and knowledge ; — knowledge that resteth in 
the bare speculation of things, and knowledge that is 
Tni kn wied accompanied with the grace of faith and 
attended with love, which puts a man upon doing even 

endeavours ^^^ ^.^^ ^^ ^^^ f^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ . ^^^ ^^^^ 

of these will serve the talker ; but without the other the 
true Christian is not content. Give me understanding, 
and I shall keep Thy law ; yea, I shall observe it with my 
whole heart. 

Talk. You lie at the catch again; this is not for 
edification. 



FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE 

Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign 
how this work of grace discovereth itself where it is. 

Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave 
to do it ? 

Talk. You may use your liberty. 

Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, 
either to him that hath it, or to standers by. 

To him that hath it, thus : It gives him conviction of 
sin, especially of the defilement of his One good sign ot 
nature, and the sin of unbelief, for the era.ce 
sake of which he is sure to be damned, if he findeth 
not mercy at God's hand by faith in Jesus Christ. 
This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow 
and shame for sin. He findeth, moreover, revealed 
in him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute 
necessity of closing with Him for life ; at the which 
he findeth hungerings and thirstings after Him ; to 
which hungerings, etc., the promise is made. Now, 
according to the strength or weakness of his faith in 
his Saviour, so is his joy and peace, so is his love to 
holiness, so are his desires to know Him more, and also 
to serve Him in this world. But though, I say, it dis- 
covereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that 
he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace j 
because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, 
make his mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore in 
him that hath this work there is required a very sound 
judgment, before he can with steadiness conclude that 
this is a work of grace. 

To others it is thus discovered : 

I. By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ. 
2. By a life answerable to that confession : to wit, a life 
of holiness ; heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath 
a family), and by conversation-holiness in the world ; 
which in the general teacheth him inwardly to abhor his 
sin, and himself for that, in secret ; to suppress it in his 

91 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

family, and to promote holiness in the world j not by talk 
only, as a hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a 
practical subjection in faith and love to the power of the 
word. And now, sir, as to this brief description of the 
work of grace, and also the discovery of it, if you 
have aught to object, object ; if not, then give me leave 
to propound to you a second question. 

Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear ; 
let me, therefore, have your second question. 

Faith. It is this : Do you experience this first part of 
this description of it ? And doth your life and conversa- 
Another good sign tion testify the same ? or standeth your 
of grace religion in word or in tongue, and not 

in deed and truth .'' Pray, if you incline to answer me 
in this, say no more than you know the Gk)d above 
will say Amen to, and also nothing but what your 
conscience can justify you in j for not he that com- 
mendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord com- 
mendeth. Besides, to say, I am thus and thus, when my 
conversation, and all my neighbours, tell me I lie, is great 
wickedness. 

Then Talkative at first began to blush •, but, recovering 
himself, thus he replied : You come now to experience, to 
conscience, and God ; and to appeal to Him for justification 
of what is spoken. This kind of discourse 
pleased wi"h* ^ ^^^ ^^^ expcct ; nor am I disposed to 

Faithful's Qiye ZR auswer to such questions, because 

question ° _ ^ 

I count not myself bound thereto, unless 
you take upon you to be a catechiser j and though you 
should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But 
I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions .•* 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because 
_. ^ I knew not that you had aught else but 

Faithful put to uotiou. Besides, to tell you all the truth, 

him that question j ^^^^ heard of you that you are a man 
whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation 
gives this your mouth profession the lie. They say you 
are a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth the 

92 



A GOOD RIDDANCE 

worse for your ungodly conversation ; that some already 
have stumbled at your wicked ways, ^ . , , . . . 

1 ^i_ ^ : J r 1 • Faithfiri's plaia 

and that more are m danger of bemg dealing to 
destroyed thereby ; your religion, and an 'T*'^*''* 
ale-house, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swear- 
ing, and lying, and vain company-keeping, etc., will stand 
together. The proverb is true of you which is said of a 
whore, to wit, That she is a shame to all women. So 
you are a shame to all professors. 

Talk. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge 
so rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude ^ , 

•' •* . , 111 Talkative flines 

you are some peevish or melancholy man, away from 
not fit to be discoursed with ; and so, adieu. ^^'^^^"^ 

Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, I told 
you how it would happen ; your words and his lusts could 
not agree. He had rather leave your company than reform 
his life. But he is gone, as I said : let him 
go J the loss is no man's but his own ; he ^°° " ^"^^ 
has saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he con- 
tinuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is, he would have 
been but a blot in our company. Besides, the apostle 
says, From such withdraw thyself. 

Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse 
with him ; it may happen that he will think of it again : 
however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of 
his blood, if he perisheth. 

Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as yoa 
did. There is but little of this faithful dealing with men 
now-a-days, and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils 
of many as it doth : for they are these talkative fools, 
whose religion is only in word, and are debauched and 
vain in their conversation, that (being so much admitted 
into the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the world, 
blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that 
all men would deal with such as you have done ; then 
should they either be made more conformable to religion, 
or the company of saints would be too hot for them. 
Then did Faithful say, 

93 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes I 
How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
To drive down all before him ! But so sooa 
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
That's past the full, into the wane he goes; 
And so will all but he that heart-work knows. 

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by 
the way, and so made that way easy, which would other- 
wise no doubt have been tedious to them, for now they 
went through a wilderness. 

Now when they were got almost quite out of this 
wilderness. Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and 
espied one coming after them, and he knew him. Oh ! 
said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder ? Then 
Christian looked, and said. It is my good friend Evangelist. 
Ay, and my good friend too, said Faithful, for 'twas he 
Evangelist over- that Set me the way to the gate. Now 
takes them again ^^s Evangelist come up unto them, and 
thus saluted them. 

Evan. Peace be to you, dearly beloved, and peace be 
to your helpers. 

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, the 
They are glad at sight of thy Countenance brings to my 
the sight of him remembrance thy ancient kindness and 
unwearied labouring for my eternal good. 

Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good 
Faithful, thy company, O sweet Evangelist ; how desirable 
is it to us poor pilgrims ! 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with 
you, my friends, since the time of our last parting ? What 
have you met with, and how have you behaved yourselves ? 

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that 
had happened to them in the way ; and how, and with 
what difficulty, they had arrived to that place. 

Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have met 
His exhortation with trials, but that you have been victors, 
tot'^e'^ and for that you have, notwithstanding 

many weaknesses, continued in the way to this very day. 

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine 

94 



EVANGELIST'S EXHORTATIONS 

own sake and yours ; I have sowed, and you iteve reaped-, 
and the day is coming, when both he that soweth, and 
they that reap, shall rejoice together ; that is, if you 
hold out ; for in due time ye shall reap, if ye faint 
not. The crown is before you, and it is an incorruptible 
one ; so run that you may obtain it. Some there be 
that set out for this crown, and after they have gone 
far for it, another comes in and takes it from them : 
hold fast, therefore, that you have ; let no man take 
your crown. You are not yet out of the gun-shot 
of the devil ; you have not yet resisted unto blood, 
striving against sin. Let the kingdom be always before 
you, and believe stedfastly concerning things that are 
invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the other 
world get within you. And, above all, look well to 
your own hearts and to the lusts thereof; for they are 
deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Set 
your faces like a flint ; you have all power in heaven and 
earth on your side. 

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation ; 
but told him withal, that they would have th d h w 
him speak further to them for their help him?ar*his* 
the rest of the way ; and the rather, for e^o^t*«o°s 
that they well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell 
them of things that might happen unto them, and also how 
they might resist and overcome them. To which request 
Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth. 

Evan. My sons, you have heard in the words of the 
truth of the gospel, that you must through 
many tribulations enter into the kingdom ^ha^'^fr'oubies 
of heaven: and again, (hat in every city, thevshaUmeet 

1 1 J /n- • t--j J with in Vanity 

bonds and amictions abide on you ; and Fair, and 
therefore you cannot expect that you should to stediast?es?'°* 
go long on your pilgrimage without them, 
in some sort or other. You have found something of the 
truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will 
immediately follow; for now, as you see, you are almost 
out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon come 

95 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

into a town that you will by and by see before you ; and 
in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who 
will strain hard but they will kill you ; and be you sure 
that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you 
hold with blood ; but be you faithful unto death, and 
,, . , ^.. the King will give you a crown of life. 

He whose lot it ^^ , '',,,,. i •' i • i i • i i 

will be there to He that Shall die there, although his death 
the better of^his will be Unnatural, and his pain, perhaps, 
brother great, he will yet have the better of his 

fellow ; not only because he will be arrived at the Celestial 
City soonest, but because he will escape many miseries 
that the other will meet with in the rest of his journey. 
But when you are come to the town, and shall find 
fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your 
friend, and quit yourselves like men, and commit the 
keeping of your souls to God in well-doing, as unto a 
faithful Creator. 

Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out 
of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, 
and the name of that town is Vanity ; and at the town 
there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all 
the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, 
because the town where it is kept, is lighter than vanity ; 
and also, because all that is there sold, or that cometh 
thither, is vanity, as is the saying of the wise. All that 
cometh is vanity. 

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of 
The antiquity of ancient Standing. I will show you the 
this fair Original of it. 

Almost five thousand years agone, there were pilgrims 
walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest persons 
are ; and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their 
companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made, 
that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity, 
they contrived here to set up a fair ; a fair wherein should 
The merchandise ^6 sold all sorts of Vanity, and that it 
of this fair should last all the year long. Therefore 

at this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, 

96 



VANITY FAIR 

trades, places, honours, preferments, titles, countries, 
kingdoms, lusts, pleasures ; and delights of all sorts, as 
whores, bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, 
servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, 
precious stones, and what not. 

And moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be 
seen jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves 
and rogues, and that of every kind. 

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, 
murders, adulteries, false swearers, and that of a blood- 
red colour. 

And as, in other fairs of less moment, there are the 
several rows and streets under their proper names, where 
such and such wares are vended j so here likewise you 
have the proper places, rows, streets (namely, countries 
and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest 
to be found. Here is the Britain Row, The streets of 
the French Row, the Italian Row, the this fair 
Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of 
vanities are to be sold. But as in other fairs some one 
commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of 
Rome and her merchandise is greatly promoted in this 
fair ; only our English nation, with some others, have 
taken a dislike thereat. 

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies 
just through this town where this lusty fair is kept j 
and he that will go to the city, and yet not go 
through this town, must needs go out of the world. 
The Prince of princes Himself, when here, Christ went 
went through this town to His own through this fair 
country, and that upon a fair-day too ; yea, and, as I 
think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that 
invited Him to buy of his vanities, yea, would have made 
Him lord of the fair, would He but have done him 
reverence as He went through the town. Yea, because 
He was such a person of honour, Beelzebub had Him 
from street to street, and showed Him all the kingdoms 
of the world in a little time, that he might, if possible, 

91 <? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

allure that Blessed One to cheapen and buy some of 
Christ bought no- his Vanities ; but He had no mind to the 
thing in this fair merchandise, and, therefore, left the town 
■without laying out so much as one farthing upon these 
vanities. This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long 
standing, and a very great fair. 

Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through 
The pilgrims enter this fair. Well, SO they did; but, 
^^^^^^^ behold, even as they entered into the 

fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the 
The fair in a hub- towu itself, as it were, in a hubbub about 
bub about them them, and that for several reasons : For, 

First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of 
The first cause of raiment as was diverse from the raiment 
the hubbub of ^^y ^-j^^t traded in that fair. The 

people, therefore, of the fair made a great gazing upon 
them ; some said they were fools ; some they were 
bedlams ; and some they are outlandish men. 

Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel. 
The second cause SO they did likewise at their speech ; for 
of the hubbub £g^ could Understand what they said. 

They naturally spoke the language of Canaan ; but they 
that kept the fair were the men of this world. So that 
from one end of the fair to the other, they seemed 
barbarians each to the other. 

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the 
Third cause of the merchandizers was, that these pilgrims set 
^"'^''"'* very light by all their wares. They cared 

not so much as to look upon them ; and if they called 
upon them to buy, they would put their fingers in their 
ears, and cry. Turn away mine eyes from beholding 
vanity, and look upwards, signifying that their trade and 
traffic was in heaven. 

One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of the 
Fourth cause of men, to Say unto them. What will ye 
the hubbub buy.? But they, looking gravely upon 

him, said. We buy the truth. At that, there was an 
occasion taken to despise the men the more ; some 

98 




VANITY FAIR 

As they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, 
and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them. 



THE PILGRIMS IN THE CAGE 

mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, 
and some calling upon others to smite ^, 

^1 »^ 1 ^ "i . . 1 , They are mocked. 

them. At last thmgs came to a hub- The fair in a 
bub, and great stir in the fair, insomuch ^^^^^^ 
that all order was confounded. Now was word presently 
brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came 
down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take 
those men into examination, about whom They are ex- 
the fair was almost overturned. So the amined 
men were brought to examination ; and they that sat upon 
them asked whence they came, whither they went, and 
what they did there in such an unusual 
garb. The men told them that they were are! and whence^'^ 
pilgrims and strangers in the world, and t^^^ycame 
that they were going to their own country, which was 
the heavenly Jerusalem, and that they had given 
no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the 
merchandizers, thus to abuse them, and to let them in 
their journey, except it was for that, when one asked 
them what they would buy, they said they would buy the 
truth. But they that were appointed to examine them, 
did not believe them to be any other than They are not 
bedlams and mad, or else such as came to beUeved 
put all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore 
they took them and beat them, and besmeared them with 
dirt, and then put them into the cage. They are put in 
that they might be made a spectacle to all *^^ *=^ff« 
the men of the fair. There, therefore, they lay for some 
time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or 
malice, or revenge ; the great one of the fair laughing 
still at all that befell them. But the men Their behaviour 
being patient, and not rendering railing in the cage 
for railing, but contrariwise blessing, and giving good 
words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in 
the fair, that were more observing and less prejudiced 
than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for 
their continual abuses done by them to the men. They, 
therefore, in angry manner let fly at them again, counting 

99 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them 
that they seemed confederates, and should 

The men of the fair -i j ^ t r^u* ' r ^ 

do fau out among DC made partakers or their misrortunes. 
thIwtwoLen""' T^^ Others replied, that, for aught they 
could see, the men were quiet and sober, 
and intended nobody any harm j and that there were many 
that traded in their fair, that were more worthy to be put 
into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that 
they had abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on 
both sides (the men behaving themselves all the while 
very wisely and soberly before them), they fell to some 
^^ J ,^ blows, and did harm one to another. 

They are made the ._,, ' , , , 

authors of this dis- Then Were these two poor men brought 
turbance before their examiners again, and there 

charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been 

in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, 
and^own the faS ^ud hanged iroHS upon them, and led them 
^rror'toothers ^^ chains up and down the fair, for an 

example and terror to others, lest any 
should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. 
But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more 
wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was 
cast upon them, with so much meekness and patience, that 
„ , , it won to their side (though but few in com- 

Some of the men . -- , X i r i 

of the fair won to parisou ot the rest) several or the men m 

*''*'° the fair. This put the other party yet into 

a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of 

these two men. Wherefore they threatened. 

Their adversaries , , . i u ^i • 

resolve to kiu that the Cage nor irons should serve their 

*''*'" turn, but that they should die for the abuse 

they had done, and for deluding the men of the fair. 

Then were they remanded to the cage 
Jut*mfo the^^je, again, until further order should be taken 
to trul*' '"^°"*^^* with them. So they put them in, and made 
their feet fast in the stocks. 
Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they 
had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were 
the more confirmed in their way and sufferings, by what 

loo 



BROUGHT TO TRIAL 

he told them would happen to them. They also n«w 
comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even 
he should have the best on't ; therefore each man secretly 
wished that he might have that preferment. But committing 
themselves to the all-wise disposal of Him that ruleth all 
things, with much content they abode in the condition in 
which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed of. 
Then, a convenient time being appointed, they brought 
them forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation. 
When the time was come, they were brought before their 
enemies, and arraigned. The judge's name was Lord 
Hate-good J their indictment was one and the same in 
substance, though somewhat varying in form ; the con- 
tents whereof was this : That they were ^^ . . ^. ^ 

... , r 1 • 1 Their indictment 

enemies to, and disturbers or, their trade ; 
that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, 
and had won a party to their own most dangerous opinions, 
in contempt of the law of their prince. 

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set 
himself against that which had set itself Faithful answers 
against Him that is higher than the highest. ^^'^ himself 
And, said he, as for disturbance, I make none, being 
myself a man of peace : the parties that were won to us, 
were won by beholding our truth and innocence, and they 
are only turned from the worse to the better. And as to 
the king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of 
our Lord, I defy him and all his angels. 

Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught 
to say for their lord the king against the prisoner at the 
bar, should forthwith appear, and give in their evidence. 
So there came in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Supersti- 
tion, and Pickthank. They were then asked, if they knew 
the prisoner at the bar ; and what they had to say for their 
lord the king against him. 

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : My 
lord, I have known this man a long time, . 

and will attest upon my oath before this 

honourable bench, that he is 

loi 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Judg'e. Hold — give him his oath. 

So they sware him. Then he said, My lord, this man, 
notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of the vilest 
men in our country ; he neither regardeth prince nor 
people, law nor custom, but doth all that he can to 
possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions, which 
he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness. 
And in particular, I heard him once myself affirm, that 
Christianity and the customs of our town of Vanity were 
diametrically opposite, and could not be reconciled. By 
which saying, my lord, he doth at once not only con- 
demn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing of them. 

Judge. Then did the judge say unto him. Hast thou 
any more to say ? 

Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I would 
not be tedious to the court. Yet if need be, when the 
other gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than 
any thing shall be wanting that will despatch him, I will 
enlarge my testimony against him. So he was bid 
stand by. 

Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon 
Superstition the prisoner. They also asked, what he 

foUows could say for their lord the king against 

him. Then they sware him ; so he began : 

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with 
this man, nor do I desire to have further knowledge of 
him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent 
fellow, from some discourse that the other day I had with 
him in this town ; for then, talking with him, I heard him 
say, that our religion was naught, and such by which a 
man could by no means please God. Which saying of his, 
my lord, your lordship very well knows what necessarily 
thence will follow, to wit, that we still do worship in 
vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned : and 
this is that which I have to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew 
In behalf of their lord the king against the prisoner at 
the bar. 

I02 



FAITHFULS DEFENCE 

Pick. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I 
have known of a long time, and have Pkkthank's testi- 
heard him speak things that ought not to ™°°y 
be spoken ; for he hath railed on our noble prince 
Beelzebub, and hath spoken contemptibly of his honour- 
able friends, whose names are, the Lord Old Man, the 
Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious, sins are all lords, 
the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old ^""^ e:reat ones 
Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of 
our nobility : and he hath said, moreover, that if all men 
were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of the^e 
noblemen should have any longer a being in this town. 
Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my lord, 
who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you 
an ungodly villain, with many other such like vilifying 
terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry 
of our town. 

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge 
directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, 
Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what 
these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee ? 

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defence? 

Judge. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no longer, 
but to be slain immediately upon the place ; yet, that all 
men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear 
what thou vile runagate hast to say. 

Faith. I. I say, then, in answer to what Mr Envy 
hath spoken, I never said aught but this, Faithful's defence 
that what rule, or laws, or custom, or oftimseif 
people, were flat against the word of God, are diametri- 
cally opposite to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, 
convince me of my error, and I am ready here before you 
to make my recantation. 

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr Superstition and his 
charge against me, I said only this, that in the worship of 
God there is required a divine faith ; but there can be no 
divine faith without a divine revelation of the will of God. 
Therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of God, 

103 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

that is not agreeable to divine revelation, cannot be done 
but by a human faith, which faith will not be profitable to 
eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding 
terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like), that the 
prince of this town, with all the rabblement, his attendants, 
by this gentleman named, are more fit for being in hell 
than in this town and country. And so the Lord have 
mercy upon me. 

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while 
The judge's stood by to hear and observe). Gentlemen 

speech to the jury ^f fj^g jury, you See this man about whom 
so great an uproar hath been made in this town ; you have 
also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed 
against him ; also you have heard his reply and confession : 
it lieth now in your breast to hang him, or save his life; 
but yet I think meet to instruct you in our law. 

There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the 
great, servant to our prince, that, lest those of a contrary 
religion should multiply, and grow too strong for him, 
their males should be thrown into the river. There was 
also an act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the great, 
another of his servants, that whoever would not fall down 
and worship his golden image, should be thrown into a 
fiery furnace. There was also an act made in the days 
of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any God 
but him, should be cast into the lions' den. Now the 
substance of these laws this rebel has broken, not only in 
thought (which is not to be borne), but also in word and 
deed ; which must, therefore, needs be intolerable. 

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon supposi- 
tion, to prevent mischief, no crime yet being apparent ; 
but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third, 
you see he disputeth against our religion ; and for the 
treason that he hath confessed, he deserveth to die the 
death. 

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr 
Blindman, Mr No-good, Mr Malice, Mr Love-lust, Mr 

104 



FAITHFUL'S MARTYRDOM 

Live-loose, Mr Heady, Mr High-mind, Mr Enmity, Mr 
Liar, Mr Cruelty, Mr Hatelight, and Mr Implacable ; 
who every one gave in his private verdict The jury and 
against him among themselves, and after- *'^^"' names 
wards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty 
before the judge. And first among themselves, 
Mr Blindman, the foreman, said, I see clearly that 
this man is a heretic. Then said Mr Everyone's 
No-good, Away with such a fellow from P"vate verdict 
the earth. Ay, said Mr Malice, for I hate the very 
looks of him. Then said Mr Love-lust, I could never 
endure him. Nor I, said Mr Live-loose, for he would 
always be condemning my way. Hang him, hang 
him, said Mr Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr High- 
mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr Enmity. 
He is a rogue, said Mr Liar. Hanging is too good for 
him, said Mr Cruelty. Let's despatch him out of the 
way, said Mr Hate-light. Then said Mr 
Implacable, Might I have all the world bring him in 
given me, I could not be reconciled to euiityofdea 
him; therefore let us forthwith bring him guilty of death. 

And so they did j therefore he was presently condemned 
to be had from the place where he was, to the place from 
whence he came, and there to be put to the most cruel 
death that could be invented. 

They, therefore, brought him out, to do with him 
according to their law ; and first they scourged him, then 
they buffeted him, then they lanced his The cruel death of 
flesh with knives ; after that they stoned Faithful 
him with stones ; then pricked him with their swords ; 
and last of all they burned him to ashes at the stake. 
Thus came Faithful to his end. 

Now I saw, that there stood behind the multitude a 
chariot and a couple of horses waiting for 

r:>'^i-ri 1/ i- 1 • A chariot and 

raithrul, who (so soon as his adversaries horses wait to 
had despatched him) was taken up into it, p^thM^^ 
and straightway was carried up through 
the clouds with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the 

105 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

celestial gate. But as for Christian, he had some respite, 
Christian still a and was remanded back to prison; so he 
prisoner there remained for a space. But He that 

overrules all things, having the power of their rage in 
His own hand, so wrought it about, that Christian for 
that time escaped them, and went his way. 
And as he went he sang, saying. 

Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest 
_.. .. . Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest, 

Christian made When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 

of Faithful after Are crying out under their hellish plights: 
his death Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive. 

For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive. 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not forth 
Christian has aloue J for there was one whose name was 

another companion Hopeful (being SO made by the beholding 
of Christian and Faithful in their words and behaviour, in 
their sufferings at the fair), who joined himself unto him, 
and entering into a brotherly covenant, told him that he 
would be his companion. Thus one died to bear testimony 
to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a 
companion with Christian in his pilgrimage, 
the men of the fair This Hopeful also told Christian, that 
wiUfoUow there were many more of the men in the 

fair that would take their time and follow after. 

So I saw, that quickly after they were got out of the 
They overtake ^^^^ ^^^Y Overtook One that was going 

By-ends before them, whose name was By-ends ; 

so they said to him. What countryman, sir ? and how far 
go you this way ? He told them, that he came from the 
town of Fair-speech, and he was going to the Celestial 
City ; but told them not his name. 

From Fair-speech ? said Christian ; is there any good 
that lives there ? 

By. Yes, said By-ends, I hope. 

Chr. Pray, sir, what may I call you ? said Christian. 

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me : if you be 
By-ends loth to goi^g this Way, I shall be glad of your 
tell bis name company ; if not, I must be content. 

-06 




FAITHFUL'S MARTYRDOM 

Last of all they burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus camr 

Faithful to Ms end. 



DISCOURSE WITH BY-ENDS 

Chr. This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have 
heard of it ; and, as I remember, they say it's a wealthy place. 

By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have very 
many rich kindred there. 

Chr. Pray who are your kindred there, if a man may 
be so bold ? 

By. Almost the whole town; and in particular, my 
Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord Fair- 
speech, from whose ancestors that town first took its 
name ; also Mr Smooth-man, Mr Facing-both-ways, Mr 
Any-thing ; and the parson of our parish, Mr Two- 
tongues, was my mother's own brother, by father's side j 
and, to tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of 
good quality ; yet my great-grandfather was but a water- 
man, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most 
of my estate by the same occupation. 

Chr. Are you a married man ? 

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, 
the daughter of a virtuous woman ; she was my Lady 
Feigning's daughter ; therefore she came ^^^ ^^ 
of a very honourable family, and is kindred of By- 
arrived to such a pitch of breeding, that 
she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and 
peasant. 'Tis true, we somewhat differ in religion from 
those of the stricter sort, yet but in two „^ _ 

... ' •' . . wTiere By-ends 

small pomts : r irst, we never strive agamst differs from others 
wind and tide. Secondly, we are always "'''^ »£*<>«» 
most zealous when Religion goes in his silver slippers ; 
we love much to walk with him in the street, if the sun 
shines, and the people applaud him. 

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow 
Hopeful, saying, It runs in my mind that this is one By- 
ends, of Fair-speech ; and if it be he, we have as very a 
knave in our company as dwelleth in all these parts. 
Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks he should not be 
ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with him 
again, and said. Sir, you talk as if you knew something 
more than all the world doth ; and, if I take not my mark 

107 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you. Is not your 
name Mr By-ends, of Fair-speech ? 

By. This is not my name ; but, indeed, it is a nick- 
name that is given me by some that cannot abide me, and 
I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other good 
men have borne theirs before me. 

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men t© 
call you by this name ? 

By. Never, never ! The worst that ever I did to give 
How By-ends g«t them an occasion to give me this name 
his name -^^.s, that I had always the luck to jump 

in my judgment with the present way of the times, what- 
ever it was, and my chance was to get thereby ; but if 
things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a bless- 
ing ; but let not the malicious load me, therefore, with 
reproach. 

Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I 
heard of j and to tell you what I think, I fear this name 
belongs to you more properly than you are wilhng we 
should think it doth. 

By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it ; 
„ . . , , you shall find me a fair company-keeper, 

l*l6 desires to iceep ^ ^ •ii*iii* * 

company with if you Will Still admit me your associate. 

Christian q^^ j£ ^^^ ^jjj g^ ^j^j^ ^g^ y^^ ^^^^ 

go against wind and tide ; the which, I perceive, is against 
your opinion : you must also own Religion in his rags, as 
well as when in his silver slippers ; and stand by him, too, 
when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the 
streets with applause. 

By. You must not impose, nor lord it over my faith ; 
leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 

Chr. Not a step farther, unless you will do in what I 
propound as we. 

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old prin- 
ciples, since they are harmless and profitable. If I may 
Bjr-endsand °ot go '^^^^ 7°", I must do as I did be- 

Christian part fore you overtook me, even go by myself, 

until some overtake me that will be glad of my company. 

lo8 



DISCOURSE OF BY-ENDS 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful 
forsook him, and kept their distance before him ; but one 
of them, looking back, saw three men following Mr By- 
ends ; and, behold, as they came up with him, he made 
them a very low congee ; and they also gave him a com- 
pliment. The men's names were, Mr Hold-the-world, 
Mr Money-love, and Mr Save-all, men He has new com- 
that Mr By-ends had formerly been ac- panions 
quainted with, for in their minority they were school- 
fellows, and were taught by one Mr Gripe-man, a school- 
master in Love-gain, which is a market-town in the county 
of Coveting, in the North. This schoolmaster taught them 
the art of getting, either by violence, cozenage, flattery, 
lying, or by putting on a guise of religion ; and these 
four gentlemen had attained much of the art of their 
master, so that they could each of them have kept such a 
school themselves. 

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each 
other, Mr Money-love said to Mr By-ends, Who are they 
upon the road before us .<* for Christian and Hopeful were 
yet within view. 

By. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after 
their mode, are going on pilgrimage. ^^^^^^^. ^^^^_ 

Money. Alas ! why did they not stay, acteroftha 
that we might have had their good com- ^' ^"^""^ 
pany ? for they and we, and you, sir, I hope are all going 
on a pilgrimage. 

By. We are so, indeed ; but the men before us are 
so rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do also 
lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a man be 
ever so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all things, 
they thrust him quite out of their company. 

Mr Save. That's bad ; but we read of some that are 
righteous overmuch, and such men's rigidness prevails 
with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. 
But I pray, what, and how many, were the things wherein 
you differed ? 

By. Why they, after their headstrong manner, 
109 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

conclude that it is duty to rush on their journey all 
weathers ; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They 
are for hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am for taking 
all advantages to secure my life and estate. They are for 
holding their notions, though all other men be against them ; 
but I am for religion in what, and so far as, the times and 
my safety will bear it. They are for Religion when in 
rags and contempt; but I am for him when he walks in 
his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and v/ith applause. 

Mr Hold-the- World. Ay, and hold you there still, 
good Mr By-ends ; for my part, I can count him but a fool, 
that having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so 
unwise to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents. It's best 
to make hay when the sun shines. You see how the bee 
lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when she can 
have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain, 
and sometimes sunshine ; if they be such fools to go 
through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather 
along with us. For my part, I like that religion best that 
will stand with the security of God's good blessings unto 
us; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, 
since God has bestowed upon us the good things of this 
life, but that He would have us keep them for His sake ? 
Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion ; and Job 
says, that a good man shall lay up gold as dust ; but he 
must not be such as the men before us, if they be as you 
have described them. 

Mr Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter ; 
and therefore there needs no more words about it. 

Mr Money. No, there needs no more words about this 
matter indeed ; for he that believes neither Scripture nor 
reason (and you see we have both on our side), neither 
knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 

Mr By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on 
pilgrimage ; and for our better diversion from things that 
are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this question. 

Suppose a man, a minister or a tradesman, etc., should 
have an advantage lie before him to get the good blessings 

HO 



DISCOURSE OF BY-ENDS 

of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by 
them, except, in appearance at least, he becomes extra- 
ordinary zealous in some points of religion that he meddled 
not with before j may he not use this means to attain his 
end, and yet be a right honest man ? 

Mr Money. I see the bottom of your question ; and, 
with these gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour to shape 
you an answer. And first, to speak to your question as it 
concerns a minister himself: suppose a minister, a worthy 
man, possessed but of a very small benefice, and has in his 
eye a greater, more fat and plump by far ; he has also now 
an opportunity of getting of it, yet so as by being more 
studious, by preaching more frequently and zealously, 
and, because the temper of the people requires it, by 
altering of some of his principles ; for my part, I see no 
reason but a man may do this, provided he has a call, ay, 
and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man. 
For why ? 

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot 
be contradicted), since 'tis set before him by Providence j 
so then he may get it if he can, making no question for 
conscience sake. 

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more 
studious, a more zealous preacher, etc., and so makes him 
a better man, yea, makes him better improve his parts, 
which is according to the mind of God. 

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his 
people, by dissenting, to serve them, some of his principles, 
this argueth, I. That he is of a self-denying temper. 
2. Of a sweet and winning deportment. 3. And so more 
fit for the ministerial function. 

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small 
for a great, should not, for so doing, be judged as 
covetous ; but rather, since he is improved in his parts 
and industry thereby, be counted as one that pursues his 
call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do good. 

And now to the second part of the question, which 
concerns the tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such aa 

III 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by be- 
coming religious, he may mend his market, perhaps get a 
rich wife, or more and far better customers to his shop; 
for my part, I see no reason but that this may be lawfully 
done. For why ? 

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means 
soever a ma.n becomes so. 

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom 
to my shop. 

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming re- 
ligious, gets that which is good of them that are good, by 
becoming good himself; so then here is a good wife, and 
good customers, and good gain, and all these by becoming 
religious, which is good; therefore, to become religious 
to get all these is a good and profitable design. 

This answer thus made by Mr Money-love to Mr 
Bye-ends' question, was highly applauded by them all; 
wherefore they concluded upon the whole, that it was 
most wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they 
thought, no man was able to contradict it, and because 
Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly 
agreed to assault them with the question as soon as they 
overtook them ; and the rather, because they had opposed 
Mr By-ends before. So they called after them, and they 
stopped and stood still till they came up to them ; but they 
concluded as they went, that not Mr By-ends, but old Mr 
Hold-the-World, should propound the question to them, 
because, as they supposed, their answer to him would be 
without the remainder of that heat, that was kindled betwix^ 
Mr Bye-ends and them at their parting a little before. 

So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation, 
Mr Hold-the-World propounded the question to Christian 
and his fellow, and bid them to answer it if they could. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may 
answer ten thousand such questions. For if it be un- 
lawful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is ; how much 
more is it abominable to make of Him and religion a 
stalking-horse to get and enjoy the world ! Nor do we 

112 



MR HOLD-THE-WORLD 

find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and witches, 
that are of this opinion. 

1. Heathens : for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind 
to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that there 
was no way for them to come at them but by becoming 
circumcised, they say to their companions, If every male 
of us be circumcised, as they are circumcised, shall not 
their cattle, and. their substance, and every beast of theirs 
be ours ? Their daughters and their cattle were that which 
they sought to obtain, and their religion the stalking-horse 
they made use of to come at them. Read the whole 
story. 

2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion : 
long prayers were their pretence ; but to get widows* 
houses was their intent, and greater damnation was from 
God their judgment. 

3. Judas the devil was also of this religion : he was 
religious for the bag, that he might be possessed of what 
was therein; but he was lost, cast away, and the very 
son of perdition. 

4. Simon the witch was of this religion too ; for he 
would have had the Holy Ghost, that he might have got 
money therewith ; and his sentence from Peter's mouth 
was according. 

5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man 
that takes up religion for the world, will throw away 
religion for the world j for so surely as Judas designed 
the world in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell 
religion and his Master for the same. To answer the 
question, therefore, affirmatively, as I perceive you have 
done, and to accept of, as authentic, such answer, is 
heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish ; and your reward 
will be according to your works. 

Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not 
wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also approved 
of the soundness of Christian's answer ; so there was a 
great silence among them. Mr By-ends and his company 
also staggered, and kept behind, that Christian and 

IT3 H 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian to his 
fellow, If these men cannot stand before the sentence of 
men, what will they do with the sentence of God ? And 
if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, what 
will they do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of 
a devouring fire ! 

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and 
went till they came at a delicate plain, 
erimslfave i* but" Called Ease, where they went with much 
little in this life content; but that plain was but narrow, 
so they were quickly got over it. Now at the farther 
side of that plain was a little hill, called Lucre, and in 
that hill a silver mine, which some of them that had 
formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had 
turned aside to see ; but going too near the brim of the 
Lucre Hill, a dan- pit. the ground, being deceitful under 
geroushiii them, broke, and they were slain: some 

also had been maimed there, and could not, to their dying 
day, be their own men again. 

DemasattheHiu Then I saw lu my dream, that a little 
Lucre ofF the road, over against the silver mine, 

stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call passengers to 
come and see ; who said to Christian 
tiM*and Hopeful " and his fellow, Ho ! tum aside hither, and 

to come to him j ^j|j ^^^^ y^^ ^ ^ j^j^^g^ 

Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of 
the way to see it ? 

Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it 
for treasure ; if you will come, with a little pains you may 
richly provide for yourselves. 

Hopeful tempted Hopc. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. 

tPan hoWs bS^' Chr. Not I, said Christian ; I have heard 

back of this place before now, and how many 

there have been slain ; and, besides, that treasure is a snare 
to those that seek it, for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage. 

Then Christian called to Demas, saying. Is not the 
place dangerous ? Hath it not hindered many in their 
pilgrimage ? 

114 




DEM AS 
Then said Hopeful, " Let us go see.' 



BY-ENDS AND DEMAS 

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that 
are careless ; but withal, he blushed as he spake. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir 
a step, but still keep on our way. 

Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, 
if he hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in 
thither to see. 

Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him 
that way, and a hundred to one but he dies there. 

Demas. Then Demas called again, saying. But will 
you not come over and see ? 

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, 
thou art an enemy to the right ways of the christian roundeth 
Lord of this way, and hast been already °p Demas 
condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of His 
Majesty's judges, and why seekest thou to bring us into 
the like condemnation ? Besides, if we at all turn aside, 
our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and will 
there put us to shame, where we would stand with boldness 
before Him. 

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their 
fraternity ; and that if they would tarry a little, he also 
himself would walk with them. 

Chr. Then said Christian, "What is thy name ? Is it 
not the same by the which I have called thee ? 

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas ; I am the son of 
Abraham. 

Chr. I know you ; Gehazi was your great-grandfather, 
and Judas your father, and you have trod their steps ; 
it is but a devilish prank that thou usest ; thy father 
was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better 
reward. Assure thyself, that when we come to the King, 
we will do Him word of this thy behaviour. Thus they 
went their way. 

By this time By-ends and his companions were come 
again within sight, and they at the first By-ends goes over 
beck went over to Demas. Now, whether *° Demas 
they fell into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, 

115 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

or whether they went down to dig, or whether they were 
smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly 
arise, of these things I am not certain j but this I observed, 
that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang 
Christian : 

By-ends and silver Demas both agree; 
One calls, the other runs, that he may be 
A sharer in his lucre: so these do 
Take up in this world, and no farther go. 

Now I saw, that just on the other side of this plain, the 
They see a strange pilgrims Came to a place where stood an 
monument qjj monument hard by the highway-side, 

at the sight of which they were both concerned, because 
of the strangeness of the form thereof j for it seemed to 
them as if it had been a woman transformed into the 
shape of a pillar. Here, therefore, they stood looking 
and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what 
they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied 
written above upon the head thereof a writing in an 
unusual hand j but he being no scholar, called to Christian 
(for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the 
meaning : so he came, and after a little laying of letters 
together, he found the same to be this. Remember Lot's 
wife. So he read it to his fellow ; after which they 
both concluded, that that was the pillar of salt into which 
Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with a 
covetous heart, when she was going from Sodom for 
safety. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them 
occasion of this discourse. 

Chr. Ah, my brother ! this is a seasonable sight, it 
came opportunely to us after the invitation which Demas 
gave us to come over to view the Hill Lucre ; and had we 
gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast inclined to do, 
my brother, we had, for aught I know, been made like this 
woman a spectacle for those that shall come after, to behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made 
to wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife ; for wherein 
was the difference 'twixt her sin and mine? She only 

Ii6 



DISCOURSE ON LOT'S WIFE 

looked back, and I had a desire to go see. Let grace be 
adored; and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing 
should be in mine heart. 

Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our 
help for time to come. This woman escaped one judgment, 
for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom ; yet she was 
destroyed by another, as we see j she is turned into a 
pillar of salt. 

Hope. True, and she may be to us both caution and 
example ; caution, that we should shun her sin, or a sign 
of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be pre- 
vented by this caution j so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, 
with the two hundred and fifty men that perished in their 
sin, did also become a sign or example to beware. But 
above all, I muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas and 
his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for 
that treasure, which this woman but for looking behind 
her after (for we read not that she stepped one foot 
out of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt ; specially 
since the judgment which overtook her did but make 
her an example within sight of where they are ; for 
they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up 
their eyes. 

Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth 
that their hearts are grown desperate in that case ; and I 
cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly, as to them 
that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will 
cut purses under the gallows. It is said of the men of 
Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, because they 
were sinners * before the Lord,' that is, in His eye-sight, 
and notwithstanding the kindnesses that He had showed 
them ; for the land of Sodom was now like the garden 
of Eden heretofore. This, therefore, provoked Him 
the more to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as 
the fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it. And it 
is most rationally to be concluded, that such, even such 
as these are, they that shall sin in the sight, yea, and that 
too in despite of such examples that are set continually 

117 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

before them to caution them to the contrary, must be 
partakers of severest judgments. 

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth ; but what 
a mercy is it that neither thou, but especially I, am not 
made myself this example ! This ministereth occasion to 
us to thank God, to fear before Him, and always to 
remember Lot's wife. 

I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant 

. river, which David the king called the 

river of God ; but John, the river of 

the water of life. Now their way lay just upon the 

bank of the river : here, therefore. Christian and his 

companion walked with great delight j they drank 

also of the water of the river, which was pleasant 

Trees by the river ^^'^. enlivening to their weary spirits. 

Besides, on the banks of this river, on 

The fruit and either side, were green trees for all 

leaves of the trees manner of fruit; and the leaves they ate 

to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident 

to those that heat their blood by travels. On either 

side of the river was also a meadow, curiously beauti- 

, . . fied with lilies ; and it was green all the 

A meadow in , t i • 1111 

which they lie year long. Jn this meadow they lay down 

to sleep ^^^ slept, for here they might lie down 

safely. "When they awoke, they gathered again of the 
fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the 
river, and then lay down again to sleep. Thus they did 
several days and nights. Then they sang : 

Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide. 

To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side. 

The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell, 

Yield dainties for them ; and he that can tell 

What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield, 

Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field. 

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were 
not as yet at their journey's end), they ate, and drank, and 
departed. 

Now I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed 
it8 



BY-PATH MEADOW 

far, but the river and the way for a time parted, at 
which they were not a little sorry ; yet they durst not 
go out of the way. Now the way from the river was 
rough, and their feet tender by reason of their travels j 
so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged be- 
cause of the way. Wherefore still as they went on, they 
wished for better way. Now a little 
before them, there was on the left hand ^"*'* "* °^ 
of the road a meadow and a stile to go over into it, and 
that meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said 
Christian to his fellow, If this Meadow lieth along by our 
way-side, let's go over into it. Then he went to the stile 
to see, and behold a path lay along by the ^ , 

, , -trir ° •' ,_,. One temptation 

way on the other side or the fence. 1 is does make way 
according to my wish, said Christian ; here ^o'^^other 
is the easiest going; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over. 

Hope. But, how if this path should lead us out of the 
way ? 

Chr. That's not like, said the other. Look, doth it 
not go along by the way-side .? So Hopeful, being per- 
suaded by his fellow, went after him over 
the stile. When they were gone over, and SiyTaJS*"' 
were got into the path, they found it very ones out of the 
easy for their feet ; and withal, they, 
looking before them, espied a man walking as they did, 
and his name was Vain-Confidence : so they called after 
him, and asked him whither that way led. _. , ^.^- ^ 

TT-jT'i 1-1 Ti-j See what It IS too 

He said, 1 o the celestial gate. Look, said suddenly to fau in 
Christian, did not I tell you so ? by this ^i^^ strangers 
you may see we are right. So they followed, and he went 
before them. But behold the night came on, and it grew 
very dark •, so that they that went behind lost the sight of 
him that went before. 

He therefore that went before (Vain-Confidence by 
name), not seeing the way before him, fell a pit to catch the 
into a deep pit, which was on purpose there vam-giorious in 
made by the prince of those grounds to catch vain-glorious 
fools withal, and was dashed to pieces with his fall. 

up. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they 

called to know the matter, but there was none to answer, 

. ^ only they heard a groaning. Then said 

Reasoning be- -, ■' ^ i -tttu 3 i-u 

tween Christian Hopeful, Where are we now i 1 hen was 
and Hopeful j^j^ f^jj^^ gjj^^^^ ^^ mistrusting that he 

had led him out of the way ; and now it began to rain, 
and thunder and lighten in a very dreadful manner, and 
the water rose amain. 

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh that I 
had kept on my way ! 

Chr. Who could have thought that this path should 
have led us out of the way .? 

Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and therefore 
gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoke plainer, 
but you are older than I. 

Chr. Good brother, be not offended ; 
ancTfor"eading° ' I ^m sorry I havc brought thee out of the 
out'of the^way ^^Jy ^^d that I have put thee into such 

imminent danger. Pray, my brother, for- 
give me ; I did not do it of an evil intent. 

Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; 
and believe, too, that this shall be for our good. 

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother ; 
but we must not stand thus j let's try to go back again. 

Hope, But, good brother, let me go before. 

Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there 
be any danger, I may be first therein, because by my 
means we are both gone out of the way. 

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first, for 
your mind being troubled may lead you out of the 
way again. Then for their encouragement they heard 
the voice of one saying, Let thine heart be towards the 
highway, even the way that thou wentest ; turn again. 
But by this time the waters were greatly 
danger'of'drowa- risen, by reason of which the way of 
h^astheygo going back was very dangerous. (Then I 

thought that it is easier going out of the 
way when we are in, than going in when we are 

I20 



GIANT DESPAIR SEIZES THEM 

out.) Yet they adventured to go back •, but It was so 
dark, and the flood was so high, that in their going 
back they had like to have been drowned nine or ten 
times. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get 
again to the stile that night. Wherefore at last, lighting 
under a little shelter, they sat down there _. , . ^. 

^ Tn6v sleep in tne 

till the day brake; but, being weary, grounds of Giant 
they fell asleep. Now there was, not far espau- 
from the place where they lay, a castle, called Doubting 
Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was 
in his grounds they were now sleeping : wherefore he, 
getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down 
in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his 
grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice he bid them 
awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they 
did in his grounds. They told him they were pilgrims, 
and that they had lost their way. Then 
said the giant. You have this night tres- Ss g^ound.Tnd* 
passed on me by trampling in and lying on rf^bUn'^^Casti 
my ground, and therefore you must go 
along with me. So they were forced to go, because he 
was stronger than they. They also had but little to say, 
for they knew themselves in a fault. The giant, therefore, 
drove them before him, and put them into his castle, into 
a very dark dungeon, nasty, and stinking to the spirits of 
these two men. Here, then, they lay from _^ 

-1^7- , , . .11 n T • I The g-nevonsness 

Wednesday mornmg till baturday night, of their imprison- 
without one bit of bread or drop of drink, "^°' 
or light, or any to ask how they did : they were, there- 
fore, here in evil case, and were far from friends and 
acquaintance. Now in this place Christian had double 
sorrow, because 'twas through his unadvised counsel that 
they were brought into this distress. 

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was 
Diffidence : so when he was gone to bed, he told his wife 
what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a couple of 
prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing 

121 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best 
to do further to them. So she asked what they were, 
whence they came, and whither they were bound, and he 
told her. Then she counselled him, that when he arose 
in the morning he should beat them without mercy. So 
when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel, 
and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first 
falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they 
gave him never a word of distaste. Then 
Giant Despair he falls upon them, and beats them fear- 

beats his prisoners f^jj^^ -^^ ^^^^ g^^.^ ^j^^^^ ^j^^y ^^^^ ^^^ ^ble 

to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This 
done, he withdraws and leaves them there to condole their 
misery, and to mourn under their distress : so all that 
day they spent the time in nothing but sighs and bitter 
lamentations. The next night she, talking with her 
husband about them further, and understanding that they 
were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make 
away themselves. So when morning 
Desplir*c^u°ns"s was come, he goes to them in a surly 
them to kill them- manner, as before, and perceiving them to 
be very sore with the stripes that he had 
given them the day before, he told them, that since they 
were never like to come out of that place, their only way 
would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either 
with knife, halter, or poison : for why, said he, should 
you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much 
bitterness ? But they desired him to let them go. With 
that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had 
doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell 
The Giant some- '^^^° ^ne of his fits (for he sometimes, in 
times has fits sunshiuy weather, fell into fits), and lost 

for a time the use of his hand ; wherefore he withdrew, 
and left them as before to consider what to do. Then did 
the prisoners consult between themselves, whether 'twas 
best to take his counsel or no 5 and thus they began to 
discourse : 

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do ? The 
122 




IN THE DUNGEON OF GIANT DESPAIK 

Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday niaht 

without one hit of bread, or drop of drink, or \\i\% 



DISCOURSE IN THE DUNGEON 

life that we now live is miserable. For my part, I know 
not whether is best to live thus, or die „ . . 

^rLjT\T 11 1^ V Christian crushed 

out or hand. My soul chooseth stranghng 

rather than life, and the grave is more easy for me than this 

dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the giant? 

Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and 
death would be far more welcome to me than thus for 
ever to abide ; but yet let us consider, the Lord of the 
country to which we are going hath said. Thou shalt do 
no murder, no, not to another man's person ; much more 
then are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. 
Besides, he that kills another, can but commit murder upon 
his body ; but for one to kill himself, is to kill body and 
soul at once. And, moreover, my brother. Hopeful comforts 
thou talkest of ease in the grave ; but hast ^"^ 
thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain the murderers 
go ? for no murderer hath eternal life, etc. And let us 
consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant 
Despair ; others, so far as I can understand, have been 
taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of 
his hand. Who knows but that God, that made the 
world, may cause that Giant Despair may die ; or that at 
some time or other he may forget to lock us in ; or but he 
may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us, 
and may lose the use of his limbs ? And if ever that 
should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved to 
pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get 
from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to 
do it before. But, however, my brother, let's be patient, 
and endure a while ; the time may come that may give us 
a happy release ; but let us not be our own murderers. 
With these words Hopeful at present did moderate the 
mind of his brother j so they continued together in the 
dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition. 

Well, towards evening the giant goes down into the 
dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel. 
But when he came there, he found them alive ; and truly, 
alive was all j for now, what for want of bread and water, 

123 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and by reason of the wounds they received when he beat 
them, they could do little but breathe. But I say, he 
found them alive ; at which he fell into a grievous rage, 
and told them, that seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it 
should be worse with them than if they had never been born. 

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian 
fell into a swound j but coming a little to himself again. 
Christian stiU they renewed their discourse about the 

dejected giant's counsel, and whether yet they had 

best take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to be for 
doing it ; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth : 

Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not 

Hopeful comforts ^^^ "^^^^^^^ ^^o" ^^st been heretofore? 
him again by Apollyon could uot crush thee, nor could 

things to re- all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel in 

membrance the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What 

hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone 
through ! and art thou now nothing but fears .'' Thou 
seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man 
by nature than thou art. Also this giant has wounded 
me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and 
water from my mouth, and with that I mourn without the 
light. But let's exercise a little more patience. Re- 
member how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and 
wast neither afraid of the chain nor cage, nor yet of bloody 
death : wherefore let us (at least to avoid the shame that 
becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with 
patience as well as we can. 

Now night being come again, and the giant and his wife 
being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and 
if they had taken his counsel : to which he replied, They 
are sturdy rogues ; they choose rather to bear all hard- 
ship than to make away themselves. Then said she. Take 
them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the 
bones and skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, 
and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, 
thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their 
fellows before them. 

.1^4 



KEY OF PROMISE 

So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them 
again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them 
as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims, 
as you are, once, and they trespassed in oa Saturday the 
my grounds as you have done: and when giant threatened 

T :: L U.. /:. T .. ..U • • J that shortly he 

1 thought fit 1 tore them m pieces, and so would puii them 
within ten days I will do you ; get you *° p'®*^^^ 
down into your den again. And with that he beat them all 
the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday 
in a lamentable case, as before. Now when night was come, 
and when Mrs Diffidence and her husband, the giant, were 
got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their 
prisoners ; and withal the old giant wondered, that he 
could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an 
end. And with that his wife replied, I fear, said she, that 
they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them ; 
or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of 
which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear ? 
said the giant ; I will therefore search them in the morning. 

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, 
and continued in prayer till almost break of day. 

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one 
half amazed, brake out in this passionate speech ; What a 
fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when 
I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a . , • ch • 
key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, tian's bosom, 
I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting opens any kick in 
Castle. Then said Hopeful, That's good Doubting: Castle 
news J good brother, pluck it out of thy bosom, and try. 

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to 
try at the dungeon-door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, 
gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christian 
and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the out- 
ward door that leads into the castle-yard, and with his 
key opened that door also. After he went to the iron 
gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went 
damnable hard, yet the key did open it. Then they 
thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed ; but 

125 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

that gate, as it opened, made such a cracking, that it waked 
Giant Despair, who hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, 
felt his limbs to fail j for his fits took him again, so that 
he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, 
and came to the King's highway, and so were safe, because 
they were out of his jurisdiction. 

Now when they were gone over the stile, they began to 
contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile, 
to prevent those that shall come after from falling into the 
. ... ^ hands of Giant Despair. So they consented 

A pillar erected , .A . ■' 

by Christian and to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon 
his fellow jj^g gj|£g thereof this sentence: Over this 

stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant 
Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, 
and seeks to destroy the holy pilgrims. Many, therefore, 
that followed after, read what was written, and escaped 
the danger. This done, they sang as follows : 

Out of the way we went, and then we found 
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground : 
And let them that come after have a care, 
Lest they for trespassing his pris'ners are, 
Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair. 

They went then till they came to the Delectable Moun- 
The Delectable taius, which mountains belong to the Lord 
Mountains of that hill of which we have spoken before. 

So they went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens 
and orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water; where 
also they drank and washed themselves, 
freshed in the and did freely eat of the vineyards. Now 

mountains there were on the tops of these mountains 

shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the 
highwayside. The pilgrims, therefore, went to them, and 
leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims 
Talks with the when they stand to talk with any by the 

Shepherds Way), they asked. Whose delectable moun- 

tains are these, and whose be the sheep that feed upon 
them ? 

Shep. These mountains are Emmanuel's land, and they 
126 



THE SHEPHERDS* WELCOME 

are within sight of His city ; and the sheep also are His, 
and He laid down His life for them. 

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City ? 

Shep. You are just in your way. 

Chr. How far is it thither ? 

Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get thither 
indeed. 

Chr. Is the way safe, or dangerous ? 

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; but 
transgressors shall fall therein. 

Chr. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that 
are weary and faint in the way ? 

Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a 
charge not to be forgetful to entertain strangers : therefore 
the good of the place is before you. 

I also saw in my dream, that when the Shepherds per- 
ceived that they were wayfaring men, they also put questions 
to them (to which they made answer as in other places), 
as. Whence came you ? and, How got you into the way ? 
and. By what means have you so persevered therein ? for 
but few of them that begin to come hither, do show their 
face on these mountains. But when the The Shepherds 
Shepherds heard their answers, being welcome them 
pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, 
and said, "Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. 

The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Ex- 
perience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them The names of 
by the hand, and had them to their tents, the Shepherds 
and made them partake of that which was ready at present. 
They said, moreover. We would that you should stay here 
a while, to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace 
yourselves with the good of these Delectable Mountains. 
They then told them, that they were content to stay. And 
so they went to their rest that night, because it was very late. 

Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the 
Shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with 
them upon the mountains. So they went forth with them, 
and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on every 

127 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

side. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Shall 
They are shown we show these pilgrims some wonders? 
wonders So when they had concluded to do it, 

they had them first to the top of a hill, called Error, 
The mountain which was Very steep on the farthest side, 

of Error g^d bid them look down to the bottom. So 

Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom 
several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from 
the top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this ? The 
Shepherds answered, Have you not heard of them that 
were made to err, by hearkening to Hymenseus and 
Philetus, as concerning the faith of the resurrection of 
the body ? They answered. Yes. Then said the Shep- 
herds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the 
bottom of this mountain are they ; and they have continued 
to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others 
to take heed how they clamber too high, or how they come 
too near the brink of this mountain. 

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another 
mountain, and the name of that is Caution, 
and bid them look afar off; which, when 
they did, they perceived, as they thought, several men 
walking up and down among the tombs that were there ; 
and they perceived that the men were blind, because they 
stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they 
could not get out from among them. Then said Christian, 
What meant this ? 

The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little 
below these mountains a stile that led into a meadow, on 
the left hand of this way ? They answered. Yes. Then 
said the Shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that 
leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant 
Despair; and these men (pointing to them among the 
tombs) came once on pilgrimage, as you do now, even 
till they came to that same stile. And because the right 
way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it 
into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, 
and cast into Doubting Castle, where, after they had 

128 




THE HILL CALLED ERROR 

I'hey had them first to the top of the hill, called Error, which 

tcos very steep on the farthest side, and bid thrtn 

look down to the bottom. 



A BY-WAY TO HELL 

awhile been kept in the dungeon, he at last did put 
out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, 
where he has left them to wander to this very day, 
that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled, 
He that wandereth out of the way of understand- 
ing shall remain in the congregation of the dead. 
Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, 
with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the 
Shepherds. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them 
to another place in a bottom, where was a door in the 
side of a hill ; and they opened the door, and bid them 
look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that within 
it was very dark and smoky ; they also thought that they 
heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and a cry of some 
tormented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. 
Then said Christian, What means this ? The Shepherds 
told them. This is a by-way to hell, a way 

.U . u -. • \ 1 u A by-way to heU 

that hypocrites go m at ; namely, such as 
sell their birthright, with Esau ; such as sell their Master, 
with Judas j such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alex- 
ander ; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and 
Sapphira his wife. 

Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that 
these had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrimage, 
as we have now •, had they not ? 

Shep. Yea, and held it a long time too. 

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in 
their day, since they, notwithstanding, were thus miserably 
cast away ? 

Shep. Some farther, and some not so far as these 
mountains. 

Then said the pilgrims one to another. We have need 
to cry to the Strong for strength. 

Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it, when you 
have it, too. 

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forwards, 
and the Shepherds a desire they should ; so they walked 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

together towards the end of the mountains. Then said the 
fi. eu u J . Shepherds one to another, Let us here show 

The Shepherds' \ ... , r i /-. i • i 

perspective- to the pilgrims the gates or the Celestial 

*^'*" City, if they have skill to look through our 

perspective-glass. The pilgrims then lovingly accepted 

the motion : so they had them to the top 
The Hill Clear ^^ ^ j^j^j^ j^jjj^ ^^j^^ ^ ^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ 

the glass to look. 

Then they essayed to look ; but the remembrance of that 
The fruits of ^^^t thing that the Shepherds had showed 

servUefear them made their hands shake, by means of 

which impediment they could not look steadily through 
the glass, yet thought they saw something like the gate, 
and also some of the glory of the place. Then they 
went away and sang this song : 

Thus by the Shepherds secrets are revealed, 
Which from all other men are kept concealed : 
Come to the Shepherds then, if you ■would see 
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be. 

When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds 

gave them a note of the way. Another 

o- o can ion ^^ them bid them beware of the Flatterer. 

The third bid them take heed that they sleep not upon 

the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them God 

speed. So I awoke from my dream. 

And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two 
pilgrims going down the mountains along the highway 
towards the city. Now a little below these mountains on 

the left hand lieth the country of Conceit ; 
Conce^t'^oStof f^^m which country there comes into the 

which came way in which the pilgrims walked, a little 

crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met 
with a very brisk lad, that came out of that country, and 
nu • *•- - J his name was Ignorance. So Christian 

Christian and , i i • r i i i 

igrnorance have asked him rrom what parts he came, and 

some talk I'^y. u 

whither he was going. 
Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there, 



FOLLY OF IGNORANCE 

a little on the left hand, and am going to the Celestial 
City. 

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate, for 
you may find some difficulty there ? 

Ignor. As other good people doth, saith he. 

Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that 
may cause that the gate should be opened to you ? 

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good 
liver : I pay every man his own ; I pray. The grounds of 
fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have ignorance's hope 
left my country for whither I am going. 

Chr. But thou camest not in at the "Wicket-gate that 
is at the head of this way ; thou camest in hither through 
that same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, however 
thou mayest think of thyself, when the reckoning-day 
shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge that thou 
art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into 
the city. 

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me; I 
know you not : be content to follow the He teiieth every 
religion of your country, and I will follow one he is but a fool 
the religion of mine. I hope all will be well. And as for 
the gate that you talk of, all the world knows that that is 
a great way off of our country. I cannot think that any 
man in all our parts doth so much as know the way to it ; 
nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we 
have, as you see, a fine, pleasant, green lane, that comes 
down from our country, the next way into the way. 

When Christian saw that the man was wise in his own 
conceit, he said to Hopeful, whisperingly. There is more 
hopes of a fool than of him. And said, moreover. When 
he that is a fool walketh by the way, his wisdom faileth 
him, and he saith to every one that he is a fool. What, 
shall we talk further with him, or outgo ho-^ to carry it to 
him at present, and so leave him to think ^^°°^ 
of what he hath heard already, and then stop again for 
him afterwards, and see if by degrees we can do any 
good by him .'* Then said Hopeful, 

131 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Let Ignorance a little while now muse 

On what is said, and let him not refuse 

Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain 

Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gain. 

God saith, those that no understanding have, 

(Although He made them,) them He will not save. 

Hope. He further added, It is not good, I think, to 
say to him all at once ; let us pass him by, if you will, and 
talk to him anon, even as he is able to bear it. 

So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. 
Now when they had passed him a little way, they entered 
into a very dark lane, where they met a man whom seven 
devils had bound with seven strong cords, and were carry- 
ing him back to the door that they saw on the side 
of the hill. Now good Christian began to tremble, and 
so did Hopeful, his companion j yet, as the devils led 
away the man. Christian looked to see if he knew him j and 
he thought it might be one Turn-away, that dwelt in the 
The destruction of town of Apostacy. But he did not perfectly 
one Turn-away ggg j^jg f^ce, for he did hang his head 
like a thief that is found ; but being gone past. Hopeful 
looked after him, and espied on his back a paper, 
with this inscription. Wanton professor, and damnable 
apostate. 

Then said Christian to his fellow. Now I call to re- 
membrance that which was told me of a 
hJtom^panS thing that happened to a good man here- 
stonr of Little- about. The name of the man was Little- 
Faith ; but a good man, and he dwelt in the 
town of Sincere. The thing was this. At the entering in 
of this passage, there comes down from Broadway-gate a 
Broadway-gate lane. Called Dead-mau's-lane j so called, 
Dead-man's-iane because of the murders that are commonly 
done there ; and this Little-Faith, going on pilgrimage, as 
we do now, chanced to sit down there and sleep. Now 
there happened at that time to come down the lane from 
Broadway-gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were 
Faint-heart, Mistrust and Guilt, three brothers ; and they 
espying Little-Faith, where he was, came galloping up with 

132 



LITTLE-FAITH'S TROUBLES 

speed. Now the good man was just awaked from his sleep, 

and was getting up to go on his journey. So they came up 

all to him, and with threatening language bid him stand. 

At this, Little-Faith looked as white as a clout, and had 

neither power to fight nor fly. Then said 

Faint-heart, Deliver thy purse; but he J'jj^^'lSVartl'^** 

making no haste to do it (for he was loth Guiit™^*"' ^'*** 

to lose his money). Mistrust ran up to him, 

and thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out thence 

a bag of silver. Then he cried out. They got away his 

Thieves, thieves ! With that Guilt, with silver, and 

^iu.u^^ • L-i- J ^ 1 knocked him down 

a great club tnat was m his hand, struck 
Little-Faith on the head, and with that blow felled him 
flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would 
bleed to death. All this while the thieves stood by. But 
at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and 
faring lest it should be one Great-Grace, that dwells in 
(.he city of Good-Confidence, they betook themselves to 
their heels, and left this good man to shift for himself, 
who, getting up, made shift to scramble on his way. This 
was the story. 

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he 
had? 

Chr. No J the place where his jewels were they never 
ransacked ; so those he kept still. But, as I Little-Faith lost 
was told, the good man was much afflicted not his best things 
for his loss ; for the thieves got most of his spending-money. 
That which they got not (as I said) were jewels •, also he 
had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring 
him to his journey's end. Nay (if I was Little-Faith 
not misinformed), he was forced to beg as forced to beg- to 
he went, to keep himself alive, for his »s journey sen 
jewels he might not sell ; but beg and do what he could, 
he went (as we say) with many a hungry belly the most 
part of the rest of the way. 

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his 
certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance at 
the Celestial Gate ? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. 'Tis a wonder J but they got not that, though they 
H ke t th' missed it not through any good cunning 

best things by his of his ; for he being dismayed with their 
own cunning coming upon him, had neither power nor 

skill to hide anything : so 'twas more by good providence 
than by his endeavour that they missed of that good 
thing. 

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they 
got not his jewels from him. 

Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had he 
used it as he should ; but they that told me the story said, 
that he made but little use of it all the rest of the way, and 
that because of the dismay that he had in the taking away 
his money. Indeed he forgot it a great part of the rest of 
his journey ; and besides, when at any time it came into 
his mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then 
would fresh thoughts of his loss come again upon him, and 
those thoughts would swallow up all. 
He is pitied by Hopc. Alas, poor man, this could not 

*'°*^ but be a great grief unto him. 

Chr. Grief.? Ay, a grief indeed ! Would it not have 
been so to any of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed 
and wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he was ? 
'Tis a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart. I 
was told that he scattered almost all the rest of the way 
with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints ; telling also 
to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as 
he went, where he was robbed, and how ; who they were 
that did it, and what he lost ; how he was wounded, and 
that he hardly escaped with life. 

Hope. But 'tis a wonder that his necessity did not put 
him upon selling or pawning some of his jewels, that he 
might have wherewith to relieve himself in his journey. 

Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the 
Christiansnibbeth shell to this very day. For what should he 
hisfeUowforunad- pawuthem? Or to whom shouldhe sellthemr^ 
vxsed speaking ^^ ^jj ^^^^ country where he was robbed, 

his jewels were not accounted of j nor did he want that relief 

134 



DISCOURSE ON LITTLE-FAITH 

which could from thence be administered to him. Besides, 
had his jewels been missing at the gate of the Celestial City, 
he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded from 
an inheritance there, and that would have been worse 
to him than the appearance and villainy of ten thousand 
thieves. 

Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother ? Esau sold 
his birthright, and that for a mess of pottage ; and that 
birthright was his greatest jewel j and if he, why might 
not Little-Faith do so too ? 

Chr. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do 
many besides, and by so doing exclude ^ discourse about 
themselves from the chief blessmg, as also Esau and uttie- 
that caitiff did ; but you must put a differ- *** 
ence betwixt Esau and Little-Faith, and also betwixt their 
estates. Esau's birthright was typical ; but Little-Faith's 
jewels were not so. Esau's belly was his Esau was ruled 
god; but Little-Faith's belly was not so. by his lusts 
Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite ; Little-Faith's did 
not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than to the 
fulfilling of his lusts ; For I am at the point to die, 
said he ; and what good will this birthright do me ? 
But Little-Faith, though it was his lot to have but a 
little faith, was by his little faith kept from such extrava- 
gances, and made to see and prize his jewels more than to 
sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not any- 
where that Esau had faith, no, not so much Esau never had 
as a little ; therefore no marvel, if, where ^^^^ 
the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that man where no 
faith is to resist), if he sells his birthright, and his soul 
and all, and that to the devil of hell ; for it is with 
such as it is with the ass, who in her occasion cannot 
be turned away. When their minds are set upon their 
lust, they will have them, whatever they cost : but Little- 
Faithwas of another temper ; his mind was Littie.Faith could 
on things divine ; his livelihood was upon not live upon 
things that were spiritual and above; saus pottage 
^erefore to what end should he that is of such a temper 

135 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

sell his jewels (had there been any that would have bought 
them), "to fill his mind with empty things ? Will a man 
give a penny to fill his belly with hay ? or can you per- 
- . . suade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion, 

A comparison be- r ' 

tween the turtle- like the crow ? Though faithless ones 

dove and the crow r 11^ 

can, ror carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, 
or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot ; 
yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little 
of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy 
mistake. 

Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflection 
had almost made me angry. 

Chr. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds 
that are of the brisker sort, who will run to and fro in 
untrodden paths with the shell upon their heads : but pass 
by that, and consider the matter under debate, and all shall 
be well betwixt thee and me. 

Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am per- 
„ - , suaded in my heart, are but a company of 

Hopeful swagrgers , ij ..u u 1 ..u- 1 

cowards : would they have run else, think 
you, as they did at the noise of one that was coming on 
the road ? Why did not Little-Faith pluck up a greater 
heart ? He might, methinks, have stood one brush 
with them, and have yielded when there had been no 
remedy. 

Chr. That they are cowards, many have said, but few 
7a^„~,*i,«-^«- « have found it so in the time of trial. As 

No great heart for t • 1 t- • 1 1 1 

God where there is tor a great heart, Little-taith hath none: 

but little faith ,,- . 11 1 1 ij 

and 1 perceive by thee, my brother, hadst 
thou been the man concerned, thou art but for a brush, and 
then to yield. And, verily, since this is the height of thy 

stomach now they are at a distance from 
Mtfraglw'hen* US, should they appear to thee, as they 

we'^'efin^^^" did to him, they might put thee to second 

thoughts. 
But consider again, they are but journeymen thieves ; 
they serve under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if 
need be, will come in to their aid himself, and his 



DISCOURSE ON LITTLE-FAITH 

voice is as the roaring of a lion. I myself have been 
engaged as this Little-Faith was, and T found it a terrible 
thing. These three villains set upon me, christian teUs his 
and I beginninar like a Christian to resist, own experience 

, 1 11 1 • 1 • in this case 

they gave but a call, and m came their 
master. I would (as the saying is) have given my life for 
a penny, but that, as God would have it, I was clothed 
with armour of proof. Ay, and yet, though I was so 
harnessed, I found it hard work to quit myself like a man ; 
no man can tell what in that combat attends us, but he 
that hath been in the battle himself. 

Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did 
but suppose that one Great-Grace was in the way. 

Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and their 
master, when Great-Grace hath but appeared ; and no 
marvel, for he is the King's champion. The King's cham- 
But I trow, you will put some difference p'°° 
between Little-Faith and the King's champion. All the 
King's subjects are not His champions ; nor can they, when 
tried, do such feats of war as he. Is it meet to think that 
a little child should handle Goliath as David did ? or that 
there should be the strength of an ox in a wren ? Some 
are strong, some are weak ; some have great faith, some 
have little : this man was one of the weak, and therefore 
went to the walls. 

Hope. I would it had been Great-Grace for their 
sakes. 

Chr. If it had been he, he might have had his hands full j' 
for I must tell you, that though Great-Grace is excellent 
good at his weapon, and has, and can, so long as he 
keeps them at sword's point, do well enough with them ; 
yet if they get within him, even Faint-heart, Mistrust or 
the other, it shall go hard but that they will throw up 
his heels. And when a man is down, you know, what 
can he do ? 

Whoso looks well upon Great- Grace's face, shall see 
those scars and cuts there, that shall easily give de- 
monstration of what I say. Yea, once I heard that he 

137 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

should say (and that when he was in the combat). We 
despaired even of life. How did these sturdy rogues 
and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar ! 
Yea, Heman, and Hezekiah too, though champions in 
their days, were forced to bestir them, when by these 
assaulted ; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their 
coats soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a time, 
would go try what he could do; but though some do 
say of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they 
handled him so that they made him at last afraid of a 
sorry girl. 

Besides, their king is at their whistle ; he is never out 
of hearing ; and if at any time they be put to the worst, 
he, if possible, comes in to help them ; and of him it is 
Leviathan's Said, The sword of him that layeth at 

sturdmess j^jjjj cannot hold ; the spear, the dart, nor 

the habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as 
rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him fly ; sling- 
stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are 
counted as stubble ; he laugheth at the shaking of a 
spear. What can a man do in this case ? 'Tis true, 
if a man could at every turn have Job's horse, and 
had skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable 
TheexceUent things. For his neck is clothed with 

mettle that is in thunder. He will not be afraid as the 
grasshopper: the glory of his nostrils is 
terrible. He paweth in the valley, rejoiceth in his 
strength, and goeth out to meet the armed men. He 
mocketh at fear, and is not afTrighted, neither turneth 
back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, 
the glittering spear and the shield. He swallows the 
ground with fierceness and rage; neither believes he 
that it is the sound of the trumpet. He says among 
the trumpets. Ha, ha ; and he smelleth the battle 
afar off, the thundering of the captains, and the 
shoutings. 

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never 
desire to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do 

i:8 



DISCOURSE ON LITTLE-FAITH 

better, when we hear of others that they have been foiled, 
nor be tickled at the thoughts of our own manhood ; for such 
commonly come by the worst when tried. Witness Peter, 
of whom I made mention before ; he would swagger, ay, 
he would ; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to 
say, do better, and stand more for his Master, than all 
men ; but, who so foiled and run down by these villains 
as he ? 

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done 
on the King's highway, two things become us to do. 

First, to go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield 
with us ; for it was for want of that, that he that laid so 
lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield ; for, indeed, 
if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore he 
that had skill hath said. Above all, take the shield of 
faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery 
darts of the wicked. 

'Tis good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy, 
yea, that He will go with us Himself. -Tis good to have 
This made David rejoice when in the a convoy 
Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and Moses was rather 
for dying where he stood, than to go one step without 
his God. O my brother, if He will but go along with 
us, what need we be afraid of ten thousands that shall 
set themselves against us .'' But without Him, the proud 
helpers fall under the slain. 

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now ; and 
though (through the goodness of Him that is best) T am, 
as you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of any manhood. Glad 
shall I be if I meet with no more such brunts ; though I 
fear we are not got beyond all danger. However, since 
the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I hope 
God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised 
Philistines. Then sang Christian, 

Poor Little-Faith 1 hast been among the thieves? 
Wast robbed ? Remember this, whoso believes, 
And get more faith ; then shall you victors be. 
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three. 

I3P 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went 
then till they came at a place where they 

A way and a way ■'.,(■. ^ . , ■'. 

saw a way put itselr into their way, and 
seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they 
should go ; and here they knew not which of the two to 
take, for both seemed straight before them ; therefore 
here they stood still to consider. And as they were think- 
ing about the way, behold, a man black of flesh, but covered 
The Flatterer with a Very light robe, came to them, 

finds them ^^^ asked them why they stood there. 

They answered, they were going to the Celestial City, 
but knew not which of these ways to take. Follow 
me, said the man ; it is thither that I am going. So 
they followed him in the way that but now came into 
Christian and his the road, which by degrees turned, and 
feuow deluded turned them so from the city that they 

desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were turned 
away from it ; yet they followed him. But by and by. 
They are taken in before they Were aware, he led them both 
* °^* within the compass of a net, in which they 

were both so entangled that they knew not what to do ; 
and with that the white robe fell off the black man's back. 
Then they saw where they were. Wherefore there they 
lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves 
out. 

Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow. Now do T see 
They bewaU their Diyself in an error. Did not the Shepherds 
condition ^jd us beware of the Flatterers ? As is the 

saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day : A 
man that flattereth his neighbour spreadeth a net for his foot. 

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about 
the way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein 
we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves 
from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser 
than we ; for, saith he. Concerning the works of men, by 
the word of Thy lips I have kept me from the paths 
of the destroyer. Thus they lay bewailing themselves 
in the net. At last they espied a Shining One coming 

140 




ENTANGLED IN TOE NET 

A.t last they espied a Shining One coming towards them tcith 

a whip of small cord in his hana. 



A SHINING ONE 

toward them with a whip of small cord in his hand. 
When he was come to the place where » cu- • n 

r A Shinmg One 

they were, he asked them whence they comes to them with 
came, and what they did there. They told ^^ '?"> 
him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were 
led out of their way by a black man clothed in white, 
who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going 
thither too. Then said he with the whip. It is a 
Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself 
into an angel of light. So he rent the net, and let the 
men out. Then said he to them. Follow me, that I may 
set you in your way again. So he led them back to the 
way which they had left to follow the Flatterer. Then he 
asked them, saying, Where did you lie the 
last night? They said,With the Shepherds I^Sand"con. 
upon the Delectable Mountain. He asked victedofforgetfui- 
them then if they had not a note of those 
Shepherds of direction for the way. They answered, 
Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a stand, 
pluck out and read your note ? They answered, No. He 
asked them. Why? They said they forgot. He asked, 
moreover, if the Shepherds did not bid them beware of 
the Flatterer. They answered. Yes; but Deceivers fine 
we did not imagine, said they, that this spoken 
fine-spoken man had been he. 

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them to 
lie down ; which when they did, he _. , . . 

. ' 111 They are whipped, 

chastised them sore, to teach them the and sent on their 
good way wherein they should walk ; ^^^ 
and as he chastised them, he said. As many as I love I 
rebuke and chasten ; be zealous, therefore, and repent. 
This done, he bids them go on their way, and take good 
heed to the other directions of the Shepherds. So they 
thanked him for all his kindness, and went softly along 
the right way, singing : 

Come hither, you that walk along the way, 
See how the pilgrims fare that go astray: 
They catched are in an entangling net, 
'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget ^ 

141 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Tis true they rescued were ; but yet, you see, 
They're scourged to boot : let this your caution be. 

Now after a while they perceived afar off one coming 
softly, and alone, all along the highway to meet them. 
Then said Christian to his fellow, Yonder is a man 
with his back towards Zion, and he is coming to 
meet us. 

Hope. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now. 
The Atheist meets l^st he should prove a flatterer also. So 
'^^°* he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came 

up unto them. His name was Atheist, and he asked them 
whither they were going. 

Chr. We are going to the Mount Zion. 
Then Atheist fell into a very great 

Helauensatthem , , ^ o 

laughter. 

Chr. "What's the meaning of your laughter ? 

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, 
to tak« upon you so tedious a journey, and yet are like to 
have nothing but your travel for your pains. 
They reason Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall 

together not be received ? 

Atheist. Received ! There is not such place as you 
dream of in all this world. 

Chr. But there is in the world to come. 

Atheist. When I was at home in mine own country, 
I heard as you now affirm, and from that hearing went 
out to see, and have been seeking this city twenty 
years, but find no more of it than I did the first day I 
set out. 

Chr. We have both heard, and believe, that there is 
such a place to be found. 

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had 

The Atheist takes °°^ ^°"^^ *^"^ ^" *^ ^^*^ ' ^"^ finding 

np his content in none (and yet I should, had there been 
* ^°' such a place to be found, for I have gone 

to seek it farther than you), I am going back again, and 
will seek to refresh myself with the things that I then cast 
away for hopes of that which I now see is not. 

142 



THE ENCHANTED GROUND 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful his com- 
panion, Is it true which this man has christian pro- 

ga J J ? voketh his brother 

Hope. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers. Re- 
member what it has cost us once already Hopeful's gracious 
for our hearkening to such kind of fellows, answer 
What ! No Mount Zion ? Did we not see from the 
Delectable Mountains the gate of the city ? Also, are we 
not now to walk by faith ? Let us go on, said Hopeful, 

lest the man witVl the whip overtake us a remembrance of 

again. You should have taught me that former chastise- 

,° I • I T Ml J • ^u mentsisahelp 

lesson, which 1 will round you in the ears against present 
withal: Cease, my son, to hear the in- temptations 
struction that causeth to err from the words of knowledge, 
I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to 
the saving of the soul. 

Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee, 
for that I doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but 
to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a a fruit of an honest 
fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for ^^^rt 
this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this 
world. Let thee and I go on, knowing that we ha^e 
belief of the truth, and no lie is of the truth. 

Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of Go^^- 
So they turned away from the man, and he, laughing at 
them, went his way. 

I saw then in my dream, that they went on till they 
came into a certain country, whose air ^, ,^^ „ . 

•' ' 1 ney are come to 

naturally tended to make one drowsy, the Enchanted 

• r 1 • ^ • ^ A J L Ground 

it he came a stranger into it. And here 
Hopeful began to be very dull, and heavy of sleep ; where- 
fore he said unto Christian, I now begin Hopeful begins to 
to grow so drowsy, that I can scarcely hold ^^ drowsy 
up mine eyes ; let us lie down here, and take one nap. 

Chr. By no means, said the other, lest christian keeps 
sleeping we never awake more. ^'^'^ awake 

Hope. Why, my brother ? sleep is sweet to the labour- 
ing man ; we may be refreshed if we take a nap. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid 
us beware of the Enchanted Ground? He meant by that, that 
we should beware of sleeping ; wherefore let us not sleep 
as do others, but let us watch and be sober. 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault; and had I been 
here alone, I had by sleeping run the danger 

He is thankful r j .u T -J..U..U • 

or death. 1 see it is true that the wise man 
_ ^ J • saith. Two are better than one. Hitherto 

To prevent drowsi- , , , i . 

ness, they fall to hath thy Company been my mercy ; and thou 
good discourse ^j^^j^ ^^^^ ^ ^^^^ reward for thy labour. 

Good discourse ^hr. Now, then, said Christian, to 

prevents prevent drowsiness in this place, let us 

drowsiness r n • ^ j j- 

rail into good discourse. 
Hope. With all my heart, said the other. 
Chr. Where shall we begin ? 

Hope. Where God began with us. But do you begin, 
if you please. 

Chr. I will sing you first this song. 

When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, 
The Dreamer's ^j^^j j^g^^ j^^^ these tw^o pilgrims talk together: 
Yea, let them learn of them in any wise, 
Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumb'ring eyes. 
^^^^ Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 

^^^ Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell. 

_,, ^ . , ,, Chr. Then Christian began, and said. 

They begin at the , ... , . tt 

begrinning of their I Will asK you a question. How Came you 
conversion ^^ think at first of doing what you do now ? 

Hope. Do you mean, how came I at first to look after 
the good of my soul ? 

Chr. Yes, that is my meaning. 

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those 
things which were seen and sold at our fair ; things which 
I believe now would have, had I continued in them still, 
drowned me in perdition and destruction. 

Chr. What things are they ? 

Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. 
Also I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, 
swearing, lying, uncleanness, sabbath-breaking, and what 
not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I found at last, 

144 



HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION 

by hearing and considering of things that are divine, 
•which, indeed, I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, 
that was put to death for his faith and good living in 
Vanity Fair, that the end of these things is death ; and 
that for these things' sake the wrath of God cometh 
upon the children of disobedience. 

Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of 
this conviction ? 

Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil 
of sin, nor the damnation that follows upon „ , , ^ ^ ^ 

, . . r • i_ 1 1 Hopeful at first 

the commission or it; but endeavoured, shut his eyes 
when my mind at first began to be shaken a&amst the Ug t 
with the word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof. 

Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it 
thus to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon 
you ? 

Hope. The causes were, I. I was ignorant that this 
was the work of God upon me. I never Reasons of the 
thought that by awakenings for sin, God resisting of light 
at first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet 
very sweet to my flesh, and I was loth to leave it. g. I 
could not tell how to part with mine old companions, their 
presence and actions were so desirable unto me. 4. The 
hours in which convictions were upon me, were such trouble- 
some and such heart-affrighting hours, that I could not bear, 
no, not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart. 

Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your 
trouble ? 

Hope. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind 
again j and then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I 
was before. 

Chr. Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind 
again ? 

Hope. Many things ; as, 

1. If I did but meet a good man In the Ke° se^^^14'"'* 
street ; or, '^^^f' brought it 

2 . If I ha ve hear d any read in the Bible ; or, 

3. If mine head did begin to ache j or, 

MS K 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

4. If I were told that some of my neighbours were 
sick; or, 

5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead j or, 

6. If I thought of dying myself; or, 

7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others. 

8. But especially when I thought of myself, that I must 
quickly come to judgment. 

Chr. And could you at any time with ease get off the 
guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came upon you ? 

Hope. No, not I ; for then they got faster hold of my 
conscience ; and then, if I did but think of goiilg back to 
sin (though my mind was turned against it), it would be 
double torment to me. 

Chr. And how did you do then ? 

Hope. I thought I must endeavour 
longw sha^ke ofF°° to mend my life ; or else, thought I, I am 
^n ?c"3 fc' h^r^ sure to be damned. 

courses, then ne 

endeavours to Chr. And did vou enoeavour to 

mend , ■> ■' 

amend : 

Hope. Yes, and fled from, not only my sins, but sinful 
company too, and betook me to religious duties ; as praying, 
reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbours, 
etc. These things did I with many other, too much here 
to relate. 

Chr. And did you think yourself well then ? 

Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last my trouble 
Then he thought Came tumbling upon me again, and that 
himself weu over the neck of all my reformation. 

Chr. How came that about, since you were now 
reformed ? 

Hope. There were several things Drought it upon me, 
„ , .. , especially such savings as these: All our 

last could not help, righteousnesses are as filthy rags. By 
^^"^^y the works of the law shall no flesh 

be justified. "When ye have done all those things, say, 
"We are unprofitable, with many more such like. From 
whence I began to reason with myself thus : If all 
Bay righteousnesses are filthy rags, if by the deeds of 

146 



HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION 

the law no man can be justified, and if, when we 
have done all, we are yet unprofitable, then 'tis but a 
folly to think of heaven by the law. I further thought 
thus : If a man runs a hundred pounds into „. . . ... 

t . 5 11 1 r 1 111 "'^ being: a debtor 

the shopkeeper s debt, and after that shall by the law 
pay for all that he shall fetch ; yet if this old '°" * '™ 
debt stand still in the book uncrossed, the shopkeeper may 
sue him, and cast him into prison till he shall pay the debt 

Chr. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? 

Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself; I have by 
my sins run a great way into God's book, and that my now 
reforming will not pay off that score. Therefore I should 
sink still, under all my present amendments. But how shall 
I be freed from that damnation that I brought myself in 
danger of by my former transgressions .? 

Chr. A very good application : but pray go on. 

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me, even 
since my late amendments, is, that if I look 
narrowly into the best of what I do now, SlnllThPsbtst 
I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with duties troubled 
the best of that I do ; so that now I am 
forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former fond 
conceits of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough 
in one day to send me to hell, though my former life had 
been faultless. 

Chr. And what did you do then ? 

Hope. Do ! I could not tell what to do, till I brake 
my mind to Faithful -, for he and I were ^,. . , . 

11 • 1 All 11 1 ^"'® made nun 

well acquainted. And he told me, that break his mind to 

I T iJt-^'^1 -1^ c Faithful, who told 

unless 1 could obtain the righteousness or him the way to be 

a man that never had sinned, neither mine ^^^^^ 

own, nor all the righteousness of the world, could save me.' 

Chr. And did you think he spake true ? 

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and 
satisfied with mine own amendment, I had called him fool 
for his pains ; but now, since I see mine own infirmity, and 
the sin that cleaves to my best performance, I have been 
forced to be of his opinion. 

H7 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. But did you think, when at first he suggested 
it to you, that there was such a man to be found, of 
whom it might justly be said that he never committed 
sin ? 

Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded 
At which he strangely, but after a httle more talk and 

started at present company with him, I had full conviction 
about it. 

Chr. And did you ask him what man this was, and 
how you must be justified by him ? 

Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that 
,. , dwelleth on the right hand of the Most 

A more particular ^_. , » i i • i i 

discovery of the High. And thus, saiQ he, you must 
way to be saved ^^ justified by Him, eveu by trusting 
to what He hath done by Himself in the days of His 
flesh, and suffered when He did hang on the tree. 
I asked him further, how that Man's righteousness could 
be of that efficacy to justify another before God. And 
he told me He was the mighty God, and did what He 
did, and died the death also not for Himself, but for me ; 
to whom His doings, and the worthiness of them, should 
be imputed, if I believed on Him. 

Chr. And what did you do then ? 

Hope. I made my objections against my believing. 
He doubts of ac- fo^ t^at I thought He was not willing to 
ceptation save me. 

Chr. And what said Faithful to you then ? 

Hope. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said 
He is better in- it was presumptiou. He said. No ; for I 
structed -^^s invited to come. Then he gave me 

a book of Jesus His inditing, to encourage me the more 
freely to come ; and he said concerning that book, that 
every jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven 
and earth. Then I asked him what I must do when 
I came ; and he told me, I must entreat upon my knees, 
with all my heart and soul, the Father to reveal Him 
to me. Then I asked him further, how I must make 
my supplication to Himj and he said. Go, and thou 

148 



HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION 

shalt find Him upon a mercy-seat, where He sits, all 
the year long, to give pardon and forgiveness to them 
that come. I told him, that I knew not what to say 
when I came ; and he bid me say to 
this effect : God be merciful to me a « s i o pray 
sinner, and make me to know and believe in Jesus Christ ; 
for I see, that if His righteousness had not been, or 
I have not faith in that righteousness, I am utte»-ly cast 
aw;,y. Lord, I have heard that Thou art a merciful God, 
and hast ordained that Thy Son Jesus Christ should be 
the Saviour of the world ; and moreover, that Thou art 
willing to bestow Him upon such a poor sinner as I 
am. And I am a sinner indeed. Lord, take there- 
fore this opportunity, and magnify Thy grace in the 
salvation of mj soul, through Thy Son Jesus Christ. 
Amen. 

Chr. And did you do as you were bidden ? 

Hope. Yes, over, and ever, and „ 

_ He prays 

over. ^ ' 

Chr. And did the Father reveal His Son to you ? 

Hope. No, not at the first, nor second, nor third, 
nor fourth, nor fifth, no, nor at the sixth time 
neither. 

Chr. What did you do then ? 

Hope. What ? why I cou'd not tell what to do. 

Chr. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying ? 

Hope. Yes; a hundred times twice He thought to 

told. leave oflf praying 

Chr, And what was the reason you did not? 

Hope. I believed that that was true which had been 
told me, to wit, that without the righteousness of this 
Christ, all the world could not save me ; and therefore, 

thought I with myself, if I leave off, I «« durst not leave 

die, and I can but die at the throne of off praying:, and 
g>-ace. And withal this came rito my ^^^^ 
miaJ, If it tarry, wait for it ; because it will surely 
come, and will not tarry. So I ccntinu2d praying, until 
the Faihsr showed me His Son, 

149 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. And how was He revealed unto you ? 

Hope. I did not see Him with my bodily eyes, but 
Christ is revealed with the eyes of mine understanding, 
to him, and how af^j jhug jj- -^^g^ Qne day I was very 

sad, I think sadder than at any one time in my life ; 
and this sadness was through a fresh sight of the 
greatness and vileness of my sins. And as I was then 
looking for nothing but hell, and the everlasting damna- 
tion of my soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord 
Jesus looking down from heaven upon me, and saying. 
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be 
saved. 

But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner : 
and He answered. My grace is sufficient for thee. 
Then I said. But, Lord, what is believing ? And then 
I saw from that saying, He that cometh to Me shall 
never hunger, and he that believeth on Me shall never 
thirst, that believing and coming was all one ; and that 
he that came, that is, that ran out in his heart and 
affections after salvation by Christ, he indeed believed 
in Christ. Then the water stood in mine eyes, and 
I asked further. But, Lord, may such a great sinner as 
I am be indeed accepted of Thee, and be saved by 
Thee ? And I heard Him say. And him that cometh 
to Me I will in no wise cast out. Then I said. But 
how, Lord, must I consider of Thee in my coming to 
Thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon Thee ? 
Then He said, Christ Jesus came into the world to 
save sinners. He is the end of the law for righteous- 
ness to every one that believes. He died for our sins, 
and rose again for our justification. He loved us, and 
washed us from our sins in His own blood. He is 
Mediator betwixt God and us. He ever liveth to 
make intercession for us. From all which T gathered, 
that I must look for righteousness in His person, 
and for satisfaction for my sins by His blood : that 
what He did in obedience to His Father's law, and 
in submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for Him- 

150 




HOPEFUL'S CONVERSION 
'Lord. I am a great, a veru great sinner. 



IGNORANCE AGAIN 

self, but for him that will accept it for his salvation, 
and be thankful. And now was my heart full of joy, 
mine eyes full of tears, and mine affections running 
over with love to the name, people, and ways of Jesus 
Christ. 

Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul 
indeed. But tell me particularly what effect this had 
upon your spirit. 

Hope. It made me see that all the world, notwith- 
standing all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of 
condemnation. It made me see that God the Father, 
though He be just, can justly justify the coming sinner. 
It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my former 
life, and confounded me with the sense of mine own 
ignorance ; for there never came thought into my heart 
before now that showed me so the beauty of Jesus 
Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do 
something for the honour and glory of the Lord Jesus. 
Yea, I thought that had I now a thousand gallons of 
blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the 
Lord Jesus. 

I saw then in my dream, that Hopeful looked back, 
and saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming 
after. Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder 
youngster loitereth behind. 

Chr. Ay, ay, I see him ; he careth not for our company. 

Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him had he 
kept pace with us hitherto. 

Chr. That's true j but I warrant you he tbinketh 
otherwise. 

Hope. That I think he dothj but, however, let us 
tarry for him. So they did. 

Then Christian said to him. Come away, Yonng ignorance 
man ; why do you stay so behind ? comes up again 

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even 
more a great deal than in company, unless 

11-1 '^^u u ^M. Their talk 

like It the better. 

Then said Christian to^iopeful (but softly). Did I not 

lit - 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGREStS 

tp\l you he cared not for our company ? But howex'er, 
said he, come up, and let us talk away the time in this 
solitary place. Then, directing his speech to Ignorance, 
he said, Come, how do you do ? How stands it between 
God and your soul now ? 

Ignorance's hope. , Js^,^^' ] ^ope. Well ; for I am always 
an J the ground full of good motious, that comc into my 
mind to comfort me as I walk. 

Chr. What good motions ? pray tell us. 

Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven. 

Chr. So do the devils and damned souls. 

Ignor. But I think of them, and desire them. 

Chr. So do many that are never like to come there. 
The soul of the sluggard desires, and hath nothing. 

Ig"nor. But I think of them, and leave all for them. 

Chr. That I doubt ; for leaving of all is a hard 
matter ; yea, a harder matter than many are aware of. 
But why, or by what, art thou persuaded that thou hast 
left all for God and heaven .'* 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. The wise man says, He that trusts his own heart 
is a fool. 

Ignor. That is spoken of an evil heart ; but mine is 
a good one. 

Chr. But how dost thou prove that .'' 

Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 

Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness j for 
a man's heart may minister comfort to him in the 
hopes of that thing for which he has yet no ground to 
hope. 

Ignor. But my heart and life agree together ; and 
therefore my hope is well grounded. 

Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree 
together ? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. Ask my fellow if I be a thief. Thy heart 
tells thee so ! Except the word of God beareth witness 
in this matter, other testimony jftof no value. 



CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE 

Ignor. But is It not a good heart that has good 
thoughts ? and is not that a good life that is according to 
God's commandments ? 

Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, 
and that is a good Hfe that is according to God's com- 
mandments ; but it is one thing indeed to have these, and 
another thing only to think so. 

Ignor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a 
life according to God's commandments ? 

Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds ; — 
some respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and 
some other things. 

Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ? 

Chr. Such as agree with the word of what are good 

God. thoughts? 

Ignor. "When do our thoughts of ourselves agree with 
the word of God ? 

Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves 
which the word passes. To explain myself: the word of 
God saith of persons in a natural condition. There is 
none righteous, there is none that doeth good. It saith 
also, that every imagination of the heart of man is only 
evil, and that continually. And again, The imagina- 
tion of man's heart is evil from his youth. Now, then, 
when we think thus of ourselves, having sense thereof, 
then are our thoughts good ones, because according to 
the word of God. 

Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus 
bad. 

Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought 
concerning thyself in thy life. — But let me go on. As 
the word passeth a judgment upon our hearts, so it passeth 
a judgment upon our ways; and when our thoughts of 
our hearts and ways agree with the judgment which the 
word giveth of both, then are both good, because agreeing 
thereto. 

Ignor. Make out your meaning. 

Chr, Why, the wor^of God saith, that man's Ways 

153 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

are crooked ways, not good, but perverse ; it saith, they 
are naturally out of the good way, that they have not 
known it. Now when a man thus thinketh of his ways, 
I say when he doth sensibly, and with heart-humiliation, 
thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own ways, 
because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the 
word of God. 

Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God ? 

Chr. Even, as I have said concerning ourselves, when 
our thoughts of God do agree with what the word saith 
of Him ; and that is, when we think of His being and 
attributes as the word hath taught ; of which I cannot 
now discourse at large. But to speak of Him in 
reference to us : then we have right thoughts of God 
when we think that He knows us better than we know 
ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where we can 
see none in ourselves : when we think He knows our inmost 
thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, is always 
open unto His eyes ; also when we think that all our 
righteousness stinks in His nostrils, and that therefore He 
cannot abide to see us stand before Him in any confidence, 
even in all our best performances. 

Ignor, Do you think that I am such a fool as to think 
God can see no further than I ; or that I would come to 
God in the best of my performances ? 

Chr. "Why, how dost thou think in this matter ? 

Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in 
Christ for justification. 

Chr. How ! think thou must believe in Christ, when 
thou seest not thy need of Him ! Thou neither seest 
thy original nor actual infirmities j but hast such 
an opinion of thyself, and of what thou doest, as 
plainly renders thee to be one that did never see a 
necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to justify 
thee before God. How, then, dost thou say, I believe 
in Christ? 

Ignor. I believe well enough for all that, 

Chr. How dost thou believ^ 

^S4 



CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE 

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners ; and that 
I shall be justified before God from the The faith of 
curse, through His gracious acceptance of ignorance 
my obedience to His law. Or thus, Christ makes my 
duties, that are religious, acceptable to His Father by 
virtue of His merits, and so shall I be justified. 

Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of 
thy faith: 

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith j for this 
faith is nowhere described in the word. 

2. Thou believest with a false faith ; because it taketh 
justification from the personal righteousness of Christ, and 
applies it to thy own. 

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, 
but of thy actions ; and of thy person for thy actions* sake, 
which is false. 

4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will 
leave thee under wrath in the day of God Almighty : for 
true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its lost 
condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's 
righteousness (which righteousness of His is not an act 
of grace by which He maketh, for justification, thy 
obedience accepted with God, but His personal obedience 
to the law, in doing and suffering for us what that required 
at our hands) ; this righteousness, I say, true faith 
accepteth ; under the skirt of which the soul being 
shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it is 
accepted, and acquit from condemnation. 

Ignor. What ! would you have us trust to what 
Christ in His own person has done without us ? This 
conceit would loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate 
us to live as we list : for what matter how we live, if we 
may be justified by Christ's personal righteousness from 
all, when we believe it ? 

Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art 
thou : even this thy answer demonstrateth what I say. 
Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness is, and 
as ignorant how to secure- thy soul through the faith of it, 

^55 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESc:^ 

from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou also art ignorant 
of the true effects of saving faith in this righteousness 
of Christ, which is to bow and win over the heart to God 
in Christ, to love His name, His word, ways, and people, 
and not as thou ignorantly imaginest. 

Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him 
from heaven. 

Ignor. "What ! you are a man for revelations ! I 
igrnorance jangles believe, that what both you and all the 
with them j-gst of you Say about that matter, is but 

the fruit of distracted brains. 

Hope. Why, man ! Christ is so hid in God from the 
natural apprehensions of all flesh, that He cannot by any 
man be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals 
Him to them. 

Ignor. That is your faith, but not mine ; yet mine, I 
He speaks re- doubt uot, is as good as yours, though I 

what h^Lows ^^^^ °°' ^° °^y h^*"^ ^° many whimsies as 
not you. 

Chr. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought 
not so slightly to speak of this matter : for this I will 
boldly affirm (even as my good companion hath done), 
that no man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation 
of the Father : yea, and faith too, by which the soul 
layeth hold upon Christ (if it be right), must be 
wrought by the exceeding greatness of His mighty 
power; the working of which faith, I perceive, poor 
Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. Be awakened then, see 
thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ; 
and by His righteousness, which is the righteousness of 
God (for He Himself is God), thou shalt be delivered 
from condemnation. 

Ignor. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with 
The talk broke 7°" » ^^ 7°" g^ o^ before; I must stay 
"P awhile behind. 

Then they said — 

Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be. 
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee? 



CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL 

And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know 
Ere long the ctiI of thy doing so. 
Remember, man, in time; stoop, do not fear; 
Good counsel, taken well, sares ; therefore hear. 
But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee. 

Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow : — 

Chr. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that 
thou and I must walk by ourselves again. 

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, 
and Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then said Christian 
to his companion, It pities me much for this poor man : it 
will certainly go ill with him at last. 

Hope. Alas ! there are abundance in our town in this 
condition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and that of 
pilgrims too j and if there be so many in our parts, how 
many, think you, must there be in the place where he was 
born ? 

Chr. Indeed, the word saith. He hath blinded their 
eyes, lest they should see, etc. 

But, now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such 
men ? have they at no time, think you, convictions of sin, 
and so consequently fear that their state is dangerous ? 

Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for 
you are the elder man. 

Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may ; 
but they being naturally ignorant, understand not that 
such convictions tend to their good ; and therefore they 
do desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously con- 
tinue to flatter themselves in the way of their own hearts. 

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much 
to men's good, and to make them right at The good use of 
their beginning to go on pilgrimage. ^^" 

Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right : for so 
says the word. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of 
wisdom. 

Hope. How will you describe right fear ? 

Chr. True or right fear is discovered „. . , 

t„ .1.1. Right fears 

by three thmgs : 

^57 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

1. By its rise : it is caused by saving convictions for sin. 

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for 
salvation. 

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great rever- 
ence of God, His word, and ways ; keeping it tender, and 
making it afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or 
to the left, to any thing that may dishonour God, break 
its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak 
reproachfully. 

Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. 
Are we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground ? 

Chr. Why ? art thou weary of this discourse ? 

Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where we 
are. 

Chr. We have not now above two miles farther to go 
thereon. — But let us return to our matter. 

Now the ignorant know not that such convictions that 
„,. . ^ tend to put them in fear, are for their 

wiiv iGmofcLiic 

persons stifle good, and therefore they seek to stifle 

convictions ^^^^^ 

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ? 

Chr. I. They think that those fears are wrought by 
the devil (though indeed they are wrought of God), and, 
thinking so, they resist them, as things that directly tend 
to their overthrow. 2. They also think that these fears 
tend to the spoiling of their faith ; when, alas for them, 
poor men that they are, they have none at all ! and there- 
fore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They pre- 
sume they ought not to fear, and therefore in despite of 
them, wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see that 
those fears tend to take away from them their pitiful old self- 
holiness, and therefore they resist them with all their might. 

Hope. I know something of this myself; for before I 
knew myself it was so with me. 

Chr. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbour 
Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another profitable 
question. 

Hope. With all my heart -, but you shall still begin. 
158 



ONE TEMPORARY 

Chr. "Well, then, did you know, about ten years ago, 
one Temporary in your parts, who was a Talk about one 
forward man in religion then ? Temporary 

Hope. Know him ! yes ; he dwelt in Graceless, a town 
about two miles off of Honesty, and he „,. 

, , , •-r> u 1 Where he dwelt 

dwelt next door to one 1 urnback. 

Chr. Right ; he dwelt under the same roof with him. 
Well, that man was much awakened once : He was 
I believe that then he had some sight of towardiyonce 
his sins, and of the wages that were due thereto. 

Hope. I am of your mind, for (my house not being 
above three miles from him) he would ofttimes come to 
me, and that with many tears. Truly I pitied the man, 
and was not altogether without hope of him : but one may 
see, it is not every one that cries. Lord, Lord ! 

Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go on 
pilgrimage, as we go now ; but all of a sudden he grew 
acquainted with one Save-self, and ^hen he became a 
stranger to me. 

Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a 
little inquire into the reason of the sudden backsliding of 
him and such others. 

Chr. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 

Hope. Well, then, there are, in my judgment, four 
reasons for it : 

I. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, 
yet their minds are not changed : therefore, 

•' , , r • 1 1 Reasons why 

when the power or guilt weareth away, towardiyones 
that which provoketh them to be religious ^° ^^'^^ 
ceasethj wherefore they naturally return to their own course 
again ; even as we see the dog that is sick of what he hath 
eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, he vomits and casts 
up all ; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say 
a dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach : 
but now, when his sickness is over, and so his stomach 
eased, his desires being not at all alienated from his vomit, 
he turns him about, and licks up all ; and so it is true which 
is written, The dog is turned to his own vomit again. 

159 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

This, I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the 
sense and fear of the torments of hell, as their sense of 
hell and the fears of damnation chills and cools, so their 
desires for heaven and salvation cool also. So then it comes 
to pass, that when their guilt and fear is gone, their desires 
for heaven and happiness die, and they return to their 
course again. 

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do 
overmaster them : I speak now of th^ fears that they 
have of men : For the fear of man bringeth a snare. 
So then, though they seem to be hot for heaven 
so long as the flames of hell are about their ears, yet, 
when that terror is a little over, they betake them- 
selves to second thoughts, namely, that 'tis good to be 
wise, and not to run (for they know not what) the hazard 
of losing all, or at least of bringing themselves into 
unavoidable and unnecessary troubles j and so they fall in 
with the world again. 

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block 
in their way : they are proud and haughty, and religion in 
their eye is low and contemptible : therefore when they 
have lost their sense of hell and wrath to come, they 
return again to their former course. 

/^. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them ; 
they like not to see their misery before they come into it ; 
though perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that 
sight, might make them fly whither the righteous fly, and 
are safe j but because they do, as I hinted before, even 
shun the thoughts of guilt and terror j therefore, when 
once they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors 
and wrath of God, they harden their hearts gladly, and 
choose such ways as will harden them more and more. 

Chr. Your are pretty near the business, for the bottom 
of all is for want of a change in their mind and will. And 
therefore they are but like the felon that standeth before the 
judge : he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most 
heartily, but the bottom of all is the fear of the halter j 
not that he hath any detestation of the offences as is evident % 

160 



ONE TEMPORARY 

because let but this man have his liberty, and he will be 
a thief, and so a rogue still; whereas, if his mind was 
changed, he would be otherwise. 

Hope. Now I have showed you the reasons of their 
going back, do you show me the manner thereof. 

Chr. So I will willingly : 

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, 
from the remembrance of God, death, and How the apostate 
judgment to come. goes back 

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as 
closet prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for 
sin, and the like. 

g. Then they shun the company of lively and warm 
Christians. 

4. After that, they grow cold to public duty j as 
hearing, reading, godly conference, and the like. 

5. They then begin to pick holes, as we say, in the 
coats of some of the godly, and that devilishly, that they 
may have a seeming colour to throw religion (for the sake of 
some infirmity they have spied in them) behind their backs. 

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate them- 
selves with, carnal, loose, and wanton men. 

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses 
in secret ; and glad are they if they can see such things in 
any that are counted honest, that they may the more boldly 
do it through their example. 

8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly. 

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as 
they are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf of 
misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they ever- 
lastingly perish in their own deceivings. 

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the 
pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and 
entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was 
very sweet and pleasant ; the way lying directly through 
it, they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, 
here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw 
every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard 

161 h 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country the 
sun shineth night and day : wherefore this was beyond the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach 
of Giant Despair ; neither could they from this place so 
much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within 
sight of the City they were going to : also here met them 
some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this 
"^* land the shining ones commonly walked, 

because it was upon the borders of heaven. In this land 
also the contract between the Bride and the Bridegroom 
was renewed ; yea, here, as the bridegroom rejoiceth 
over the bride, so did their God rejoice over them. 
Here they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place 
they met with abundance of what they had sought for in 
all their pilgrimages. Here they heard voices from out 
of the City, loud voices, saying, Say ye to the daughter 
of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh ! Behold, His 
reward is with Him ! Here all the inhabitants of the 
country called them, the holy people, the redeemed of 
the Lord, sought out, etc. 

Now, as they walked this land, they had more rejoicing 
than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which 
they were bound ; and drawing near to the City, they 
had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded 
of pearls and precious stones, also the street thereof was 
paved with gold ; so that, by reason of the natural glory 
of the City, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, 
Christian with desire fell sick ; Hopeful also had a fit or 
two of the same disease : wherefore here they lay by it 
awhile, crying out because of their pangs. If you see my 
Beloved, tell Him that I am sick of love. 

But, being a little strengthened, and better able to bear 
their sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet 
nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and 
gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, 
as they came up to these places, behold, the gardener 
stood in the way ; to whom the pilgrims said, Whose 
goodly vineyards and gardens are these ^ He answered, 

162 



THEY REACH THE RIVER 

They are the King's, and are planted here for His own 
delights, and also for the solace of pilgrims. So the 
gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh 
themselves with the dainties j he also showed them there 
the King's walks and the arbours, where He delighted 
to be : and here they tarried and slept. 

Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in 
their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their 
journey ; and, being in a muse thereabout, the gardener 
said even to me, "Wherefore musest thou at the matter ? 
it is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards 
to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that 
are asleep to speak. 

So I saw that when they awoke they addressed them- 
selves to go up to the City. But, as I said, the reflection 
of the sun upon the City (for the City was pure gold), 
was so extremely glorious, that they could not as yet 
with open face behold it, but through an instrument made 
for that purpose. So I saw, that as they went on, there 
met them two men in raiment that shone like gold, also 
their faces shone as the light. 

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came, and 
they told them. They also asked them where they had 
lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and 
pleasures, they had met in the way ; and they told them. 
Then said the men that met them. You have but two 
difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the City. 

Christian then and his companion asked the men to go 
along with them : so they told them they would ; But, said 
they, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in 
my dream that they went on together till they came in 
sight of the gate. 

Now I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was 

a river: but there was no bridge to go _ . 

11. , ^ 9 Death 

over J and the river was very deep. At 

the sight therefore of this river the pilgrims were much 

stunned j but the men that went with them said. You must 

go through or you cannot come at the gat^ 

1 6^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

The pilgrims then began to inquire, if there was no other 
way to the gate. To which they answered. Yes ; but 
there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, 
been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of 
the world, nor shall until the last trumpet shall sound. 
The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond 
in his mind, and looked this way and that, but no way 
Death is not wei- could be fouud by them by which they 
th^gh'by^it'we might escape the river. Then they asked 
pass out of this the men if the waters were all of a depth, 
wor in o gory fhey Said, No J yet they could not help 
nol^^imfortabiy them in that case; For, said they, you 
through death shall find it deeper or shallower as you 

believe in the King of the place. 

They then addressed themselves to the water, and 
entering, Christian began to sink, and, crying out to his 
good friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters j the 
billows go over my head, all His waves go over me. Selah. 

Then said the other. Be of good cheer, my brother : I 
feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, Ah ! 
my friend, the sorrows of death hath compassed me about, 
f-i^-o*-, v„„ I shall not see the land that flows with 

Christian s con- 
flict at the hour of milk and honey. And with that a great 

darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so 
that he could not see before him. Also here he in great 
measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember 
nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he 
had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the 
words that he spake still tended to discover that he had 
horror of mind, and hearty fears that he should die in that 
river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, 
as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the trouble- 
some thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since 
and before he began to be a pilgrim. 'Twas also observed, 
that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and 
evil spirits ; for ever and anon he would intimate so much 
^y words. 
Hopeful therefore here had much ado to keep his brother's 
164 




CEOSSINQ THE RIVER 

Bopeful also would endeavour to comfort htm. saying, " Brother^ 

f aee the aate." 



THEY GET OVER 

head above water ; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone 
down, and then, ere awhile, he would rise up again half 
dead. Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, 
saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by it to 
receive us ; but Christian would answer, 'Tis you, 'tis you 
they wait for ; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you. 
And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, brother, said 
he, surely if I was right He would now arise to help me ; 
but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, and hath 
left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite 
forgot the text where it is said of the wicked. There is 
no band in their death, but their strength is firm ; they are 
not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued like 
other men. These troubles and distresses that you go 
through in these waters, are no sign that God hath for- 
saken you ; but are sent to try you, whether you will call 
to mind that which heretofore you have received of His 
goodness, and live upon Him in your distresses. 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was in a muse 
awhile. To whom also Hopeful added these words. Be of 
good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole. And with 
that Christian brake out with a loud voice. Oh, I see Him 
again ; and He tells me, "When thou christian de- 
passest through the waters, I will be livered from his 
with thee; and through the rivers, they ^"^'^ 
shall not overflow thee. Then they both took courage, 
and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until 
they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found 
ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest 
of the river was but shallow. Thus they got over. 

Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they 
saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them. 
Wherefore being come out of the river, they sainted them, 
saying, "We are ministering spirits, sent ^1,3^^ gig^^, 
forth to minister for those that shall be wait for them so 
heirs of salvation. Thus they went along plssed*out^of*Ss 
towards the gate. ^°'^^^ 

Now you must note, that the City stood upon a mighty 

16* 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

hill ; but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because 
they had these two men to lead them up by the arms : 
They have put ^^^o they had left their mortal garments 
off mortality behind them in the river ; for though they 

went in with them, they came out without them. They 
therefore went up here with much agility and speed, 
though the foundation upon which the City was framed 
was higher than the clouds ; they therefore went up 
through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they 
went, being comforted because they safely got over the 
river, and had such glorious companions to attend them. 

The talk that they had with the shining ones was about 
the glory of the place ; who told them that the beauty and 
glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is the 
Mount Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable 
company of angels, and the spirits of just men made 
perfect. You are going now, said they, to the paradise 
of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and 
eat of the never-fading fruits thereof: and when you 
come there you shall have white robes given you, and 
your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, 
even all the days of eternity. There you shall not see 
again such things as you saw when you were in the lower 
region upon the earth : to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, 
and death ; For the former things are passed away. 
You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, 
and to the prophets, men that God hath taken away 
from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon 
their beds, each one walking in his righteousness. The 
men then asked. What must we do in the holy place ? 
To whom it was answered. You must there receive the 
comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your 
sorrow ; you must reap what you have sown, even the 
fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for 
the King by the way. In that place you must wear 
crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and 
visions of the Holy One ; for there you shall see Him 
5 He is. There also you shall serve Him continually 

i66 



THE WELCOME OF ANGELS 

with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom you 
desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, 
because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your 
eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with 
hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There 
you shall enjoy your friends again that are gone thither 
before you ; and there you shall with joy receive even 
every one that follows into the holy place after you. 
There also you shall be clothed with glory and majesty, 
and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King 
of Glory. "When He shall come with sound of trumpet 
in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you 
shall come with Him ; and when He shall sit upon the 
throne of judgment, you shall sit by Him ; yea, and when 
He shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let 
them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that 
judgment because they were His and your enemies. Also, 
when He shall again return to the City, you shall go too 
with sound of trumpet, and be ever with Him. 

Now while they were thus drawing towards the gate, 
behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet 
them ; to whom it was said by the other two shining ones. 
These are the men that have loved our Lord, when they 
were in the world, and that have left all for His holy 
name J and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have 
brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they 
may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. 
Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, 
Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-supper of 
the Lamb. There came out also at this time to meet 
them several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white 
and shining raiment, who with melodious noises and loud 
made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These 
trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten 
thousand welcomes from the world ; and this they did 
with shouting and sound of trumpet. 

This done, they compassed them round on every side ; 
some went before, some behind, and some on the right 

167. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

hand, some on the left (as 'twere to guard them through 
the upper regions), continually sounding as they went, 
with melodious noise, in notes on high ; so that the very 
sight was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself 
was come down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked 
on together ; and, as they walked, ever and anon these 
trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing 
their music with looks and gestures, still signify to 
Christian and his brother how welcome they were into 
their company, and with what gladness they came to meet 
them. And now were these two men, as 'twere, in heaven, 
before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of 
angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. Here 
also they had the City itself in view j and they thought 
they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them 
thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts 
that they had about their own dwelling there with such 
company, and that for ever and ever, oh, by what tongue 
or pen can their glorious joy be expressed ! — Thus they 
came up to the gate. 

Now when they were come up to the gate, there was 
written over it in letters of gold. Blessed are they 
THAT DO His commandments, that they may have 

RIGHT TO the TREE OF LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN THROUGH 
THE GATES INTO THE CITY. 

Then I saw in my dream that the shining men bid them 
call at the gate : the which when they did, some from 
above looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and 
Elijah, etc., to whom it was said. These pilgrims are come 
from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear 
to the King of this place : and then the pilgrims gave in 
unto them each man his certificate, which they had received 
in the beginning ; those therefore were carried in to the 
King, who when He had read them, said. Where are the 
men ? To whom it was answered. They are standing 
without the gate. The King then commanded to open the 
gate. That the righteous nation, said He, that keepeth 
truth may enter la, 

I68 



THE CELESTIAL CITY 

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in 
at the gate; and, lo ! as they entered, they were trans- 
figured ; and they had raiment put on that shone hke gold. 
There were also that met them with harps and crowns, 
and gave them to them ; the harps to praise withal, and 
the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream 
that all the bells in the City rang again for joy, and that it 
was said unto them, Enter ye into the joy of our Lord. 
I also heard the men themselves say that they sang with 
a loud voice, saying. Blessing, honour, glory, and power, 
be to Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb 
for ever and ever. 

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I 
looked in after them, and behold, the City shone like the 
sun ; the streets also were paved with gold ; and in them 
walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in 
their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal. 

There were also of them that had wings, and they 
answered one another without intermission, saying. Holy, 
holy, holy, is the Lord ! And after that they shut up the 
gates : which when I had seen, I wished myself among 
them. 

Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I 
turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance come 
up to the river side ; but he soon got over, and that 
without half that difficulty which the other two men 
had met with. For it happened that there was then 
in the place one Vain-Hope, a ferryman, that with his 
boat helped him over; so he, as the other I saw, did 
ascend the hill, to come up to the gate ; only he came 
alone ; neither did any man meet him with the least 
encouragement. When he was come up to the gate, 
he looked up to the writing that was above, and then 
began to knock, supposing that entrance should have 
been quickly administered to him ; but he was asked 
by the men that looked over the top of the gate. Whence 
came you ? and what he would have ? He answered, 

Z69 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

I have ate and drank in the presence of the King, and 
He has taught in our streets. Then they asked him 
for his certificate, that they might go in and show it 
to the King : so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and 
found none. Then said they, Have you none? but the 
man answered never a word. So they told the King, 
but He would not come down to see him, but commanded 
the two shining ones, that conducted Christian and Hope- 
ful to the City, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind 
him hand and foot, and have him away. Then they took 
him up, and carried him through the air, to the door that 
I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in there. Then 
I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of 
heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction. So I 
awoke, and behold it was a dream. 

THE CONCLUSION. 

Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee, 

See if thou canst interpret it to me. 

Or to thyself, or neighbour ; but take heed 

Of misinterpreting, for that, instead 

Of doing good, will but thyself abuse: 

By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 

Take heed also that thou be not extreme 
In playing with the outside of my dream : 
Nor let my figure or similitude 
Put thee into a laughter, or a feud ; 
Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee 
Do thou the substance of my matter see. 

Put by the curtains, look within my vail, 
Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail. 
There, if thou seekest them, such things to find 
As will be helpful to an honest mind. 

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold 
To throw away, but yet preserve the gold. 
What if my gold be wrapped up in ore? 
None throws away the apple for the core. 
But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 
1 know not but 'twill make me dream again. ) 



170 



4J 



THE 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

FROM 

THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME 
THE SECOND PART 

DKLIVERED UNDER THE 8UULITUDE OF A DREAM 

WHEREIN IS SET FORTH THE MANNER OF THE SETTING OUT OF 
christian's WIFE AND CHILDREN ; THEIR DANGEROUS JOURNEY, 
AND SAFE ARRIVAL AT THE DESIRED COUNTRY 

By JOHN BUNYAN 
2 have used similitudes, Hoa. xiL SO 



TUB 

AUTHOR'S WAY 

OF SENDING FORTH 

HIS SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM 

Go now, my little Book, to every place 

Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face j 

Call at their door : if any say. Who's there ? 

Then answer thou, Christiana is here. 

If they bid thee come in, then enter thou. 

With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how. 

Tell who they are, also from whence they came : 

Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or name* 

But if they should not, ask them yet again. 

If formerly they did not entertain 

One Christian, a Pilgrim ? If they say 

They did, and were delighted in his way ; 

Then let them know, that those related were 

Unto him ; yea, his wife and children are. 

Tell them that they have left their house and home. 
Are turned Pilgrims ; seek a world to come : 
That they have met with hardships in the way : 
That they do meet with troubles night and day : 
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils 
Have also overcome a many evils : 
Yea, tell them also of the next who have. 
Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave 
Defenders of that way ; and how they still 
Refuse this world, to do their Father's will, 

173 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Go tell them also of those dainty things 
That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. 
Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 
Beloved of their King, under His care ; 
What goodly mansions for them He provides, 
Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides. 
How brave a calm they will enjoy at last. 
Who to their Lord, and by His ways hold fast. 

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
Thee as they did my firstling, and will grace 
Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare, 
As show will, they of Pilgrims lovers are. 

OBJECTION I. 

But how if they will not believe of me 
That I am truly thine ? 'cause some there be 
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name. 
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ; 
And by that means, have wrought themselves into 
The hands and houses of I know not who. 

ANSWER. 

'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit 
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set ; 
Yea, others half my name, and title too. 
Have stitched to their book to make them do ; 
But yet they, by their features, do declare 
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are. 

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way. 
Before them all, is to say out thy say 
In thine own native language, wkich no man 
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. 

If, after all, they still of you shall doubt. 
Thinking that you like gipsies go about. 
In naughty wise the country to defile ; 
Or that you seek good people to beguile 

174 



ACCOUNT OF SECOND PART 

With things unwarrantable — send for me. 
And I will testify you pilgrims be j 
Yea, I will testify that only you 
My Pilgrims are, and that alone will do. 

OBJECTION II. 

But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him 
Of those that wish him damned life and limb : 
What shall I do, when I at such a door 
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more ? 

ANSWER. 

Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbears 
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land. 
Yet could I never come to understand 
That it was slighted, or turned out of door. 
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, 
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother. 

In Holland too, 'tis said, as I am told. 
My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold. 

Highlanders and wild Irish can agree 
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be. 

'Tis in New England under such advance, 
Receives there so much loving countenance. 
As to be trimmed, new clothed, and decked with gems. 
That it might show its features and its limbs. 
Yet more ; so comely doth my Pilgrim walk, 
That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 

If you draw nearer home, it will appear 
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear. 
City and country will him entertain. 
With, Welcome, Pilgrim ; yea, they can't refrain 
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by. 
Or shows his head in any company. 

175 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, 
Esteem it much ; yea, value it above 
Things of a greater bulk ; yea, with delight. 
Say, my lark's leg is better than a kite. 

Young ladies and young gentlewomen too 
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim shew : 
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts. 
My Pilgrim has ; "cause he to them imparts 
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains. 
As yield them profit double to their pains 
Of reading ; yea, I think I may be bold 
To say, some prize him far above their gold. 

The very children that do walk the street. 
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet. 
Salute him will ; will wish him well, and say. 
He is the only stripling of the day. 

They that have never seen him, yet admire 
What they have heard of him, and much desire 
To have his company, and hear him tell 
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 

Yea, some that did not love him at the first. 
But called him fool and noddy,^ say they must. 
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend. 
And to those whom they love, they do him send. 

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be 
Afraid to show thy head : none can hurt thee. 
That wish but well to him that went before ; 
'Cause thou com'st after with a second store 
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable. 
For young, for old, for stagg'ring and for stable. 

OBJECTION III. 

But some there be that say. He laughs too loud. 
And some do say. His head is in a cloud. 
Some say. His words and stories are so dark, 
They know not how by them to find his mark, 

^ A simpleton. 
176 



ACCOUNT OF SECOND PART 



ANSWER 

One may (I think) say, Both his laughs and cries 
May well be guessed at by his wat'ry eyes. 
Some things are of that nature as to make 
One's fancy chuckle, while hi^ heart doth ache. 
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, 
He did, at the same time, both kiss and weep. 

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head; 
That doth but show Wisdom's covered 
With its own mantles, and to stir the mind 
To a search after what it fain would find. 
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure. 
Do but the godly mind the more allure 
To study what those sayings should contain. 
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain. 

I also know a dark similitude 
Will on the fancy more itself intrude. 
And will stick faster in the heart and head, 
Than things from similes not borrowed. 

Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement 
Hinder thy travels : behold, thou art sent 
To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give place 
To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left concealed. 
Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast revealed! 
What Christian left locked up, and went his way. 
Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 

OBJECTION IV. 

But some love not the method of your first 
Romance they count it, throw't away as dust. 
If I should meet with such, what should I say ? 
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay ? 

ANSWER. 

My Christiana, if with such thou meet. 
By all means, in all loving wise them greet ; 

177 M 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Render them not reviling for revile ; 
But if they frown, I pr'ythee, on them smile : 
Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report. 
Has made them thus despise, or thus retort. 

Some love no cheese, some love no fish ; and some 
Love not their friends, not their own house or home : 
Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl. 
More than they love a cuckoo or an owl. 
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice. 
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice: 
By no means strive, but in most humble wise 
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 

Go then, my little Book, and show to all 
That entertain and bid thee welcome shall. 
What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest : 
And wish what thou shalt show them may be blessed 
To them for good, may make them choose to be 
Pilgrims better by far than thee or me. 

Go then, I say, tell all men who thou art : 
Say, I am Christiana ; and my part 
Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 
It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot. 

Go also, tell them who and what they be 
That now do go on pilgrimage with thee ; 
Say, Here's my neighbour Mercy ; she is one 
That has long time with me a pilgrim gone ; 
Come see her in her virgin face, and learn 
'Twixt idle ones and pilgrims to discern. 
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
The world which is to come, in any wise. 
"When little tripping maidens follow God, 
And leave old doting sinners to His rod, 
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried, 
Hosanna ! to whom the old ones did deride. 

Next tell them of old Honest, whom you found. 
With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrims' ground 5 
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was j 
How after his good Lord he bare his cross. 

178 



ACCOUNT OF SECOND PART 

Perhaps with some grey head this may prevail 
"With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 

Tell them also, how Master Fearing went 
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
In solitariness, with fears and cries ; 
And how at last he won the joyful prize. 
He was a good man, though much down in spirit j 
He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 

Tell them of Master Feeble-Mind also, 
Who not before, but still behind would go : 
Show them also, how he had like been slain, 
And how one Great-Heart did his life regain. 
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace,^ 
One might true godliness read in his face. 

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-Halt, 
A man with crutches, but much without fault : 
Tell them how Master Feeble-Mind and he 
Did love, and in opinions much agree : 
And let all know, though weakness was their chance. 
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-Truth, 
That man of courage, though a very youth. 
Tell every one his spirit was so stout. 
No man could ever make him face about ; 
And how Great-Heart and he could not forbear,'" 
But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair ! 

Overlook not Master Despondency, 
Nor Much-Afraid his daughter, though they lie 
Under such mantles, as may make them look 
(With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
They softly went, but sure ; and at the end. 
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. 

When thou hast told the world of all these things. 
Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings j 
Which, if but touched, will such music make. 
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 

Those riddles that lie couched within thy breast. 
Freely propound, expound j and for the rest 

179 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 

For those whose nimble fancies shall them gjun* 

Now may this little Book a blessing be 
To those that love this little Book and me ; 
And may its buyer have no cause to say. 
His money is but lost, or thrown away. 
Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit 
As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit j 
And may it persuade some that go astray, 
To turn their foot and heart to the right way, 

Is the hearty prayer of 

The Author, 

|0^2I BUNYAN> 



\9o 



ii 



THE 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM 



THE SECOND PART 



Courteous Companions, 

Some time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian 
the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey toward the 
Celestial Country, was pleasant to me, and profitable to 
you. I told you then also what I saw concerning his wife 
and children, and how unwilling they were to go with him 
on pilgrimage ; insomuch that he was forced to go on his 
progress without them j for he durst not run the danger 
of that destruction which he feared would come by staying 
with them in the City of Destruction : wherefore, as I then 
showed you, he left them and departed. 

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of 
business, that I have been much hindered and kept back 
from my wonted travels into those parts whence he went, 
and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make 
further inquiry after whom he left behind, that I might 
give you an account of them. But having had some 
concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. 
Now having taken up my lodgings in a wood about a mile 
off the place, as I slept, I dreamed again. 

And, as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleowjin 
came by where I lay ; and because he was to go some par^ 
of the way that I was travelling, methought I got up and 
went with him. So as we walked, and as travellers usually 

l8l 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

do, I was as if we fell into discourse; and our talk 
happened to be about Christian and his travels j for thus 
I began with the old man : 

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth on 
the left hand of our way ? 

Then said Mr Sagacity (for that was his name). It is the 
City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with 
a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people. 

I thought that was that city, quoth I ; I went once 
myself through that town ; and therefore know that this 
report you give of it is true. 

Sag". Too true ! I wish I could speak truth in speaking 
better of them that dwell therein. 

Well, sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well- 
meaning man, and so one that takes pleasure to hear and 
tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what 
happened to a man some time ago in this town (whose 
name was Christian), that went on pilgrimage up toward 
the higher regions ? 

Sag. Hear of him ! Ay, and I also heard of the 
molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, 
frights, and fears, that he met with and had in his 
journey. Besides, I must tell you, all our country 
rings of him : there are but few houses that have heard 
of him and his doings, but have sought after and got the 
records of his pilgrimage ; yea, I think I may say, that 
his hazardous journey has got a many well-wishers to his 
ways J for, though when he was here he was fool in 
every man's mouth, yet now he is gone he 

Chnstians are -I'li jjrn t->>' -j 

weu spoken of IS highly commeuded or all. f*or tis said 

though called he lives bravely where he is : yea, many 

are hwe*^* ****^ of them that are resolved never to run 
his hazards, yet have their mouths water 
at his gains. 

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything 
that is true, that he liveth well where he is ; for he now 
lives at, and in the Fountain of life, and has what he has 
without labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed 

182 



HAPPINESS OF CHRISTIAN 

therewith. But, pray, what talk have the people about 

him ? 

Sag. Talk! the people talk strangely about him: 
some say that he now walks in white ; that he has 
a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown 
of gold beset with pearls upon his head : others say, 
that the shining ones, that sometimes showed themselves 
to him in his journey, are become his companions, and 
that he is as familiar with them in the place where he 
is, as here one neighbour is with another. Besides, 'tis 
confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of 
the place where he is, has bestowed upon him already 
a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court, and that he 
every day eateth and drinketh, and walketh and talketh 
with Him, and receiveth of the smiles and favours of 
Him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is ex- 
pected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, 
will shortly come into these parts, and will know 
the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbours 
set so little by him, and had him so much in derision, 
when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim. 

For they say that now he is so in the affections of his 
Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much ^. . .. , v 

, . , . , . .V Christian's Kingr 

concerned with the mdignities that were will take chns- 
cast upon Christian when he became a '^"^p* 
pilgrim, that He will look upon all as if done unto 
Himself; and no marvel, for 'twas for the love that 
he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did. 

I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on't ; I am glad for 
the poor man's sake, for that now he has rest from his 
labour, and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his 
tears with joy ; and for that he is got beyond the 
gun-shot of his enemies, and is out of the reach oi 
them that hate him. I also am glad for that a rumour 
of these things is noised abroad in this country ; who 
can tell but that it may work some good effect on some 
that are left behind ? But, pray, sir, while it is fresh 
in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and 

183 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

children ? Poor hearts ! I wonder ia my mind what 
they do. 

Sag. Who ? Christiana and her sons ? They are like 
to do as well as Christian did himself; for 
Christian^s^wife though they all played the fool at the first, 
and children ^^^ would by no means be persuaded by 

either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second 
thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them : so they 
have packed up, and are also gone after him. 

Better and better, quoth I : but, what ! wife, and 
children, and all ? 

Sag. 'Tis true : I can give you an account of the 
matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was 
thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. 

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a 
truth. 

Sag. You need not fear to affirm it : I mean that they 
are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and 
her four boys. And being we are, as I perceive, going 
some considerable way together, I will give you an 
account of the whole matter. 

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day 
that she with her children betook themselves to a pilgrim's 
life), after her husband was gone over the river, and she 
could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work 
in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband, 
and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly 
broken betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, 
nature can do no less but entertain the living with many 
a heavy cogitation, in the remembrance of the loss of 
loving relations. This, therefore, of her 
are churls' to your husbaud did cost her many a tear. But 
godly relations ^^j^ ^^^ ^^^ ^j j . ^^^ Christiana did also 

begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecoming 
behaviour towards her husband was not one cause that 
she saw him no more, and that in such sort he was taken 
away from her. And upon this came into her mind, by 
swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages 

184 



CHRISTIANA'S DREAM 

to her dear friend j which also clogged her conscience 
und did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much 
broken with recalling to remembrance the restless groans, 
brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and 
how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties, 
and loving persuasions of her and her sons to go with 
him ; yea, there was not anything that Christian either 
said to her, or did before her, all the while that his 
burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon 
her like a flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her 
heart in sunder; specially that bitter outcry of his. 
What shall I do to be saved ? did ring in her ears 
most dolefully. 

Then said she to her children. Sons, we are all undone. 
I have sinned away your father, and he is gone : he would 
have had us with him, but I would not go myself: I also 
have hindered you of life. With that the boys fell all 
into tears, and cried out to go after their father. Oh ! 
said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with 
him ! then had it fared well with us, beyond what 'tis 
like to do now. For, though I formerly foolishly 
imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that 
they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that 
he was overrun with melancholy humours ; yet now 
'twill not out of my mind, but that they sprang from 
another cause ; to wit, for that the light of life was 
given to him, by the help of which, as I perceive, he 
has escaped the snares of death. Then they all wept 
again, and cried out, Oh ! woe worth the day ! 

The next night Christiana had a dream ; and, behold, 
she saw as if a broad parchment was Christiana's 
opened before her, in which were re- dream 
corded the sum of her ways ; and the crimes, as she 
thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried 
out aloud in her sleep. Lord, have mercy upon me, a 
sinner ! and the little children heard her. 

After this, she thought she saw two very ill-favoured 
ones standing by her bed-side, and saying. What shall we 

.18^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

do with this woman ? for she cries out for mercy, waking 
Mark this • this is and sleeping ; if she be suffered to go on 
the quintesseace as she begins, we shall lose her as we have 
** lost her husband. Wherefore we must, 

by one way or other, seek to take her off from the thoughts 
of what shall be hereafter, else all the world cannot help 
but she will become a pilgrim. 

Now she awoke in a great sweat ; also a trembling was 
upon her ; but after a while she fell to sleeping again. 
And then she thought she saw Christian her husband in a 
Help against dis- place of bliss among many immortals, with 
couragement a harp in his hand, standing and playing 

upon it before One that sat upon a throne, with a rainbow 
about His head. She saw also, as if he bowed his head 
with his face to the paved work that was under his Prince's 
feet, saying, I heartily thank my Lord and King for 
bringing of me into this place. Then shouted a company of 
them that stood round about, and harped with their harps j 
but no man Uving could tell what they said but Christian 
and his companions. 

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, 
and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard 
at the door ; to whom she spake out, saying. If thou 
comest in God's name, come in. So he said. Amen, 
and opened the door, and saluted her with, Peace be to 
this house. The which when he had done, he said, 
Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come ? Then 
she blushed and trembled ; also her heart began to 
wax warm with desires to know whence he came, and 
what was his errand to her. So he said unto her. My 
name is Secret ; I dwell with those that are on high. It 
is talked of where I dwell as if thou hadst a desire to go 
f. . .. thither : also there is a report that thou art 

Convictions se- , r 11 

conded with fresh aware ot the evil thou hast lormerly done 
rea'dmess to° * to thy husbaud, in hardening of thy heart 
pardon against his way, and in keeping of these 

thy babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One 
has sent me to tell thee, that lie is a God ready to 

186 




CHRISTIANA'S VISITOR 

80 she cried out to her visitor, " Sir, will you carry me and mt 

children with you, that we also may go and worship 

this Kinat" 



THE VISIT OF SECRET 

forgive, and that He taketh delight to multiply to pardon 
offences. He also would have thee know, that He 
inviteth thee to come into His presence, to His table, and 
that He will feed thee with the fat of His house, and with 
the heritage of Jacob thy father. 

There is Christian, thy husband that was, with legions 
more, his companions, ever beholding that face that doth 
minister life to beholders j and they will all be glad when 
they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's 
threshold. 

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and 
bowing her head to the ground, this visitor proceeded 
and said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which 
I have brought from thy husband's King : so she took it, 
and opened it, but it smelt after the manner of the 
best perfume. Also it was written in letters of gold. 
The contents of the letter was, That the King would 
have her to do as did Christian her husband ; for that 
was the way to come to His city, and to dwell in His 
presence with joy for ever. At this the good woman 
was quite overcome ; so she cried out to Christiana quite 
her visitor. Sir, will you carry me and overcome 
my children with you, that we also may go and worship 
this King? 

Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before 
the sweet. Thou must through troubles. Further instruc- 
as did he that went before thee, enter this t'O"^ t° Christiana 
Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did 
Christian thy husband : go to the Wicket-gate yonder over 
the plain, for that stands in the head of the way up which 
thou must go : and I wish thee all good speed. Also I 
advise, that thou put this letter in thy bosom, that thou 
read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you have 
got it by root of heart ; for it is one of the songs that 
thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrim- 
age, also this thou must deliver in at the further gate. 

Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he 
told me the story, did himself seem to be greatly affected 

187 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

therewith. He moreover proceeded, and said: So 
Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to 
Christiana prays ^ddress herself unto them: My sons, I 
weu for her have, as you may perceive, been of late 

journey under much exercise in my soul about the 

death of your father : not for that I doubt at all of his 
happiness j for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have 
also been much affected with the thoughts of mine own 
state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature 
miserable. My carriages also to your father in his distress 
is a great load to my conscience ; for I hardened both mine 
own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with 
him on pilgrimage. 

The thoughts of these things would now kill me 
outright, but that for a dream which I had last night, and 
but that for the encouragement that this stranger has 
given me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack 
up, and be gone to the gate that leads to the Celestial 
Country, that we may see your father, and be with him 
and his companions in peace, according to the laws of 
that land. 

Then did her children burst out into tears, for joy that 
the heart of their mother was so inclined. So their visitor 
bid them farewell j and they began to prepare to set out 
for their journey. 

But while they were thus about to be gone, two 
of the women that were Christiana's neighbours, came 
up to her house, and knocked at her door. To whom she 
said as before. If you come in God's name, come in. At 
rt,.:ef , .„ »™ this the women were stunned ; for this 

Christianas new • i r i j i 

language stunds kmd of language they used not to hear, 

her old neighbours ^ ■ \. j r ^i_i* r 

or to perceive to drop from the lips or 
Christiana. Yet they came in ; but behold, they found 
the good woman a preparing to be gone from her 
house. 

So they began, and said. Neighbour, pray what is your 
meaning by this ? 

Christiana answered, and said to the eldest of them, 
l88 




MEKCY AND TIMOROUS CALL ON CHRISTIANA 
Two of the ivomrn that were Christiana's neighbours came up 
her house and knocked at the door. 



CHRISTIANA AND TIMOROUS 

whose name was Mrs Timorous, I am preparing for a 
journey. 

(This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian 
upon the Hill Difficulty, and would a Timorous comes to 
had him gone back for fear of the t^Mer'ST^^li 

lions . ) ^er neighbours 

Tim. For what journey, I pray you ? 

Chr. Even to go after my good husband. And with 
that she fell a weeping. 

Tim. I hope not so, good neighbour, pray, for your poor 
children's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself. 

Chr. Nay, my children shall go with me -, not one of 
them is willing to stay behind. 

Tim. I wonder in my very heart, what or who has 
brought you into this mind ! 

Chr. O neighbour ! knew you but as much as I do, I 
doubt not but that you would go with me. 

Tim. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got 
that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that 
tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ? 

Chr. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted 
since my husband's departure from me ; but specially since 
he went over the river. But that which 
troubleth me most is, my churlish carriages 
to him when he was under his distress. Besides, I am 
now as he was then, nothing will serve me but going on 
pilgrimage. I was a dreamed last night that I saw him. 
Oh that my soul was with him ! He dwelleth in the 
presence of the King of the country ; he sits and eats with 
Him at His table ; he is become a companion of immortals, 
and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which the 
best palace on earth, if compared, seems to me but as a 
dunghill. The Prince of the place has also sent for me, 
with promise of entertainment, if I shall come to Him ; 
His messenger was here even now, and has brought me 
a letter, which invites me to come. And with that she 
plucked out her letter, and read it, and said to them. 
What now will you say to this ? 

189 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Tim. Oh, the madness that has possessed thee and thy 
husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties ! You 
have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with, 
even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way, 
as our neighbour Obstinate can yet testify, for he went 
along with him ; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise 
men, were afraid to go any farther. We also heard, over 
and above, how he met with the lions, Apollycn, the 
The reasonings of Shadow of Death, and many other things, 
the flesh ^or is the danger he met with at Vanity 

Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he, though a man, 
•was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor 
woman, do ? Consider also, that these four sweet babes 
are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, 
though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself, 
yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at home. 

But Christiana said unto her. Tempt me not, my neigh- 
bour : I have now a price put into mine hand to get gain, 
and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should have 
no heart to strike in with the opportunity. And for that 
you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet with 
in the way, they are so far ofF from being 
to fleshly to me a discouragement, that they show I 

reasonings ^^ jj^ ^y^^ right. The bitter must come 

before the sweet, and that also will make the sweet the 
sweeter. Wherefore, since you came not to my house in 
God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and do not 
disquiet me further. 

Then Timorous all to reviled her, and said to her fellow, 

Come, neighbour Mercy, let's leave her in her own hands, 

since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy 

was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her 

, ^ , neighbour : and that for a twofold reason. 

Mercys bowels ^. ° t_ '. , , a>ii • • 

yearn over r irst. Her bowels yearned over Christiana. 

Christiana g^ gj^g g^jj within herself. If my neighbour 

will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her, and help 
her. Secondly. Her bowels yearned over her own soul ; 
for what Christiana had said, had taken some hold upon 

190 



TIMOROUS LEAVES HER 

her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, I 
will yet have more talk with this Christiana ; and if I find 
truth and life in what she shall say, myself with my heart 
shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began thus to 
reply to her neighbour Timorous : 

Mer. Neighbour, I did indeed come with you to see 
Christiana this morning ; and, since she is, as you see, a 
taking of her last farewell of her country, I think to walk 
this sun-shiny morning a little way with her, to help her 
on the way. But she told her not of her second reason, 
but kept that to herself. 

Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a fooling too ; 
but take heed in time, and be wise : while we are out of 
danger, we are out ; but when we are in, we are in. 

So Mrs Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana 
betook herself to her journey. But when ^. 

rry- 111 1 Timorous forsakes 

1 imorous was got home to her house, she her, but Mercy 
sends for some of her neighbours, to wit, <=^e*^es to her 
Mrs Bat's-Eyes, Mrs Inconsiderate, Mrs Light-Mind, and 
Mrs Know-Nothing. So when they were Timorous 
come to her house, she falls to telling of the acquaints her 
story of Christiana, and of her intended good ChrisUana 
journey. And thus she began her tale. intends to do 

Tim. Neighbours, having had little to do this morning, 
I went to give Christiana a visit ; and when I came at the 
door, I knocked, as you know 'tis our custom : and she 
answered. If j^ou come in God's name, come in. So in I 
went, thinking all was well ; but, when I came in, I found 
her preparing herself to depart the town, she, and also her 
children. So I asked her, what was her meaning by that. 
And she told me, in short, that she was now of a mind to 
go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told me also of 
a dream that she had, and how the King of the country 
where her husband was, had sent her an inviting letter 
to come thither. Then said Mrs Know- Mrs Know- 
Nothing, And what! do you think she Nothing 
will go .? 

Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on*t ; and me- 

191 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

thinks I know it by this ; for that which was my great 

argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the 

troubles she was like to meet with on the way), is one 

great argument with her to put her forward on her journey. 

For she told me in so many words, The bitter goes before 

the sweet : yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the 

sweet the sweeter. \^ 

Mrs Bat's-Eyes. Oh, this blind and foolish woman ! 

said she J will she not take warning by 

yes j^^^ husband's afRictions ? for my part, 1 

see if he were here again, he would rest him content in 

a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing. 

Mrs Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away with such 

fantastical fools from the town ! a good 

Mrs Inconsiderate . j j r ^ -r r l i 

riddance, tor my part, 1 say, or her ! 
Should she stay where she dwells, and retain this her 
mind, who could live quietly by her ? for she will either 
be dumpish, or unneighbourly, or talk of such matters as 
no wise body can abide. Wherefore, for my part, I shall 
never be sorry for her departure ; let her go, and let better 
come in her room : 'twas never a good world since these 
whimsical fools dwelt in it. 

Then Mrs Light-Mind added as followeth : Come, put 
Mrs Light-Mind ^^is kind of talk away. I was yesterday 
,, . ,,, ^ at Madam Wanton's, where we were as 

Madam Wanton, . . i- i ^ 

she that had like merry as the maids. ror who do you 
forVkuhfuUn^''*^ think should be there, but I and Mrs 
time past Love-the-Flesh, and three or four more, 

with Mr Lechery, Mrs Filth, and some others : so there 
we had music and dancing, and what else was meet to fill 
up the pleasure. And I dare say my lady herself is an 
admirably well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr Lechery is as 
pretty a fellow. 

By this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy 
_. u 4. --i. went along with her : so as they went, her 

Discourse betwixt o j ' 

Mercy and good children being there also, Christiana began 

s lana ^^ discoursc. And, Mercy, said Christiana, 

I take this as an unexpected favour, that thou shouldes*- 

192 



MERCY GOES WITH CHRISTIANA 

set foot out of doors with me to accompany me a little in 
my way. 

Mer, Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), 

If I thought it would be to purpose to go Mercy indines 

with you, I would never go near the town ^° eo 
any more. 

Chr. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with 
me : I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage : 
my husband is where he would not but be for all the gold 
in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though 
thou goest but upon my invitation. The King, who hath 
sent for me and my children, is one that -. . ,. , . 

-' , n Christiana would 

delighteth in Mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, have her neigh- 
I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along °"^^* 
with me as my servant. Yet we will have all things in 
common betwixt thee and me : only go along with me. 

Mer. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall 
be entertained ? Had I this hope from Mercy doubts 
one that can tell, I would make no stick at of acceptance 
all, but would go, being helped by Him that can help, 
though the way was never so tedious. 

Chr. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou 
shalt do ; go with me to the Wicket-Gate, 
and there I will further inquire for thee ; herTo'^e\\te"^ 
and if there thou shalt not meet with en- rni''prjfn5s/th*' 
couragement, I will be content that thou there to inquire 
shalt return to thy place; I also will pay 
thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my 
children in thy accompanying of us in our way as thou 
doest. 

Mer. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall 
follow ; and the Lord grant that my lot 
may there fall, even as the King of heaven ercy prays 
shall have His heart upon me. 

Christiana then was glad at her heart : not only that she 
had a companion; but also for that she Christiana glad of 
had prevailed with this poor maid to fall Mercy's company 
in love with her own salvation. So they went on together, 

193 H 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Where- 
fore weepeth my sister so ? 

Mer. Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that shall 

Mercy rrieves ^^^ rightly Consider what a state and con- 

fer her camal dition my poor relations are in, that yet 

remain in our sinful town ? And that 
which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they 
have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to come. 

Chr. Bowels becometh pilgrims ; and thou dost for thy 
friends, as my good Christian did for me when he left me : 
he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him ; but 
Christian's ^^^ Lord and ours did gather up his tears, 

prayers were and put them into His bottle; and now 

reiaUons after' both I and thou, and these my sweet babes, 
he was dead ^^^ reaping the fruit and benefit of them. 

I hope, Mercy, that these tears of thine will not be lost; 
for the truth hath said, that they that sow in tears shall 
reap in joy in singing. And he that goeth forth and 
weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again 
with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. 

Then said Mercy, 

Let the Most Blessed be my guide. 

If 't be His blessed will, 
Unto His gate, into His fold, 

Up to His holy hill. 

And let Him never suffer me 

To swerve, or turn aside 
From His free grace and holy ways, 

Whate'er shall me betide. 

And let Him gather them of mine, 

That I have left behind; 
Lord, make them pray they may be Thine, 

With all their heart and mind. 

Now my old friend proceeded and said. But, when 
Christiana came up to the Slough of Despond, she began to 
be at a stand ; For, said she, this is the place in which my 
dear husband had like to a been smothered with mud. 
She perceived, also, that notwithstanding the command of 
the ICing to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it was 

194 



THE WICKET-GATE 

rather worse than formerly. So I asked If that was 
true. Yes, said the old gentleman, too true ; for that many 
there be that pretend to be the King's labourers, and that say 
they are for mending the King's highways, 
that bring dirt and dung instead of stones, ^^rnai*con- 
and so mar instead of mending. Here elusions instead 

_, . . 1 r '111 !• 1 of the word of life 

Lnristiana tnererore, with her boys, did 
make a stand. But said Mercy, Come, let us venture, 
only let us be wary. Then they looked Mercy the 
well to the steps, and made a shift to get sfighof ''*" 
staggeringly over. Despond 

Yet Christiana had like to a been in, and that not once 
nor twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but they 
thought they heard words that said unto them, Blessed is 
she that believeth, for there shall be a performance of the 
things that have been told her from the Lord. 

Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Christiana, 
Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at 
the Wicket-Gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond 
would discourage me. 

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know 
mine ; and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil 
before we come at our journey's end. For can it be 
imagined that the people that design to attain such 
excellent glories as we do, and that are so envied that 
happiness as we are, but that we shall meet with what 
fears and snares, with what troubles and afflictions they 
can possibly assault us with that hate us ? 

And now Mr Sagacity left me to dream out my dream 
by myself. Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana, and 
Mercy, and the boys go all of them up to p ^^^^^^ j,^ 
the gate : to which when they were come, made with con- 
they betook themselves to a short debate, fearl^as' weu'as in 
about how they must manage their calling faith and hope 
at the gate, and what should be said unto Him that did 
open to them : so it was concluded, since Christiana was 
the eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that 
she should speak to Him that did open, for the rest. So 

195 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Christiana began to knock, and, as her poor husband did, 
she knocked and knocked again. But instead of any that 
answered, they all thought that they heard as if a dog came 
The dog, the barking upon them ;— a dog, and a great 

devil, an'enemy One too : and this made the woman and 
to prayer children afraid. Nor durst they for a 

while dare to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should 
fly upon them. Now therefore they were greatly tumbled 
up and down in their minds, and knew not what to do; 
Christiana and kuock they durst uot, for fear of the dog ; 
5erp"«dTb°ou't go back they durst not, for fear that the 
prayer Keeper of that gate should espy them as 

they so went, and should be offended with them; at 
last they thought of knocking again, and knocked more 
vehemently than they did at first. Then said the Keeper 
of the gate. Who is there ? So the dog left off to bark, 
and He opened unto them. 

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said. Let not 
our Lord be offended with His handmaidens, for that we 
have knocked at His princely gate. Then said the Keeper, 
Whence come ye ? And what is it that you would have ? 

Christiana answered. We are come from whence Chris- 
tian did come, and upon the same errand as he ; to wit, 
to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted by this 
gate into the way that leads to the Celestial City. And I 
answer, my Lord, in the next place, that I am Christiana, 
once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten above. 

With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying. 
What ! is she become now a pilgrim, that but a while 
ago abhorred that life ? Then she bowed her head, and 
said, Yes ; and so are these my sweet babes also. 

Then He took her by the hand and led her in, and said 
Ph . . ^Iso, Suffer the little children to come unto 

is entertained at Me ; and with that He shut up the gate, 
the gate •j'j^jg ^qj^q^ Hq called to a trumpeter that 

was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana with 
shouting, and sound of trumpet, for joy. So he obeyed, 
and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious notes. 

196 




MERCY AT THE GATE 
hut Mercy was fallen doion without in a swoon. 



MERCY ADMITTED 

Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without, 
trembling and crying for fear that she was rejected. 
But when Christiana had gotten admittance for herself and 
her boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy. 

Chr. And she said. My Lord, I have a companion of 
mine that stands yet without, that is come ^,... 
hither upon the same account as myself : prayer for her 
one that is much dejected in her mind, for ^"«°<iMercy 
that she comes, as she thinks, without sending for : 
whereas I was sent to by my husband's King to come. 

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each 
minute was as long to her as an hour ; ^^ , , 

, r I 1 /-ii • • r T°^ delays make 

wherefore she prevented Christiana rrom the hungering soul 
a fuller interceding for her, by knocking *^* ferventer 
at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud, that 
she made Christiana to start. Then said the Keeper of the 
gate. Who is there ? And said Christiana, It is my friend- 
So He opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy was 
fallen down without in a swoon, for she 
fainted, and was afraid that no gate should ^"^ *"* ^ 
be opened to her. 

Then He took her by the hand, and said. Damsel, I bid 
thee arise. 

O Sir, said she, I am faint : there is scarce life left to 
me. But He answered, that one once said. When my 
soul fainted within me, I remembered the The cause of her 
Lord : and my prayer came in unto Thee, fainting 
into Thy holy temple. Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, 
and tell Me wherefore Thou art come. 

Mer. I am come for that unto which I was never 
invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from 
the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear 
I presume. 

Keep. Did she desire thee to come with her to this 
place ? 

Mer. Yes ; and as my Lord sees, I am come. And if 
there is any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech 
that Thy poor handmaid may be a partaker thereof. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then He took her again by the hand, and led her gently 
in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on Me, by 
what means soever they come unto Me. Then said He to 
those that stood by. Fetch something and 
give it to Mercy to smell on, thereby to 
stay her fainting : so they fetched her a bundle of myrrh, 
and a while after she was revived. 

And now were Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, 
received of the Lord at the head of the way, and spoke 
kindly unto by Him. Then said they yet further unto 
Him, We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord His 
pardon, and further information what we must do. 

I grant pardon, said He, by word and deed ; by word, 
in the promise of forgiveness ; by deed, in the way I 
obtained it. Take the first from My lips with a kiss, and 
the other as it shall be revealed. 

Now I saw in my dream, that He spake many good 
words unto them, whereby they were greatly gladded. 
Christ crucified ^e also had them up to the top of the 
seen afar off gate, and showed them by what deed they 

were saved j and told them withal, that that sight they 
would have again as they went along in the way, to their 
comfort. 

So He left them a while in a summer parlour below. 
Talk between where they entered into talk by them- 

the Christians selves ; and thus Christiana began. — How 

glad am I that we have got in hither ! 

Mer. So you well may ; but I, of all, have cause to 
leap for joy. 

Chr. I thought one time as I stood at the gate, because 
I had knocked and none did answer, that all our labour 
had been lost, specially when that ugly cur made such 
a heavy barking against us. 

Mer. But my worst fear was after I saw that you were 
taken into His favour, and that I was left behind. Now, 
thought I, 'tis fulfilled which is written, Two women 
shall be grinding together ; the one shall be taken, 
and the other left. I had much ado to forbear cry- 

ip8 



THE CHRISTIANS' TALK 

ing out. Undone ! undone ! And afraid I was to knock 
any more ; but when I looked up to what was written 
over the gate, I took courage. I also thought that I 
must either knock again, or die : so I knocked, but I 
cannot tell how ; for my spirit now struggled betwixt 
life and death. 

Chr. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am sure 
your knocks were so earnest, that the very Christiana thinks 
sound of them made me start ; I thought I J^/sTeu^r*"* 
never heard such knocking in all my life ; ^^^ she. 
I thought you would a come in by violent hand, or a took 
the kingdom by storm. 

Mer. Alas ! to be in my case, who that so was, could 
but a done so ? You saw that the door was shut upon 
me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. Who, 
I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, that would not a 
knocked with all their might ? But, pray, what said my 
Lord unto my rudeness ? Was He not angry with me ? 

Chr. When He heard your lumbering noise, He gave 
a wonderful innocent smile ; I believe what Christ leased 
you did pleased Him well enough, for He with loud and 
showed no sign to the contrary. But I '^^^ ess prayer 
marvel in my heart why He keeps such a dog : had 
I known that afore, I fear I should not have had heart 
enough to a ventured myself in this manner. But now 
we are in, we are in, and I am glad with all my heart. 

Mer. I will ask, if you please, next time He comes 
down, why He keeps such a filthy cur in His yard ; I hope 
He will not take it amiss. 

Ay, do, said the children, and persuade Him to hang 
him 5 for we are afraid that he will bite us The children are 

when we go hence. afraid of the dog 

So at last He came down to them again, and Mercy fell 
to the ground on her face before Him, and worshipped, and 
said. Let my Lord accept of the sacrifice of praise which I 
now offer unto Him with the calves of my lips. 

So He said unto her. Peace be to thee ; stand up. But 
she continued upon her face, and said, Righteous art Thou, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

O Lord, when I plead with Thee ; yet let me talk with 
Mercy expos- '^^^^ ^^ ^^V judgments. Wherefore 

tuiates about the dost Thou keep so cruel a dog in Thy 
°^ yard, at the sight of which, such women 

and children as we are ready to fly from the gate for fear ? 
He answered and said, That dog has another owner ; he 

-^ ^ „ also is kept close in another man's ground, 

The devil i ■ni ^ -i • i r • l i • l 

only My pilgrims hear his barking : he 
belongs to the castle which you see there at a distance, but 
can come up to the walls of this place. He has frighted many 
an honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great voice 
of his roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him doth not keep 
him out of any good will to Me or Mine, but with intent to 
keep the pilgrims from coming to Me, and that they may 
be afraid to knock at this gate for entrance. Some- 
times also he has broken out, and has worried some 
that I love ; but I take all at present patiently. I also 
give my pilgrims timely help, so they are not delivered up 
to his power, to do with them what his doggish nature 
would prompt him to. But what. My purchased one, I 
trow, hadst thou known never so much beforehand, thou 
wouldest not a been afraid of a dog. The beggars that 

A check to the S° ^^°"^ ^°°^ ^^ ^°°^' ^^^^' rather than they 
carnal fear of the will lose a supposed alms, ruu the hazard of 
p grims ^^^ bawling, barking, and biting too of a 

dog ; and shall a dog, a dog in another man's yard, a dog 
whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep any 
one from coming to Me ? I deliver them from the lions, 
their darling from the power of the dog. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance ; I 
Christians, when ^P^^^ ^^^^ ^ Understood not j I acknow- 
wise enough, ac- ledge that Thou doest all things well. 
wisdom of their Chr. Then Christiana began to talk of 

^*^^ their journey, and to inquire after the way. 

— So He fed them, and washed their feet, and set them in 
the way of His steps, according as He had dealt with her 
husband before. So I saw in my dream that they walked on 
in their way, and had the weather very comfortable to them. 

200 



THE DEVIL'S GARDEN 

Then Christiana began to sing, saying, 

Blessed be the day that I began 

A pilgrim for to be ; 
And blessed also be that man 

That thereto moved me. 

'Tis true, 'twas long ere I began 

To seek to live for ever ; 
But now I run as fast as I can . 

'Tis better late than never. 

Our tears to joy, our fears to faith, 

Are turned, as we see ; 
Thus our beginning (as one saith) 

Shows what our end will be. 

Now there was, on the other side of the wall that fenced 

in the way up which Christiana and her companions were to 

go, a garden, and that garden belonged to 

p. ' ? .u . u 1 • J r u The devU's garden 

him whose was that barkmg dog, or whom 

mention was made before. And some of the fruit-trees 

that grew in that garden shot their branches over the wall ; 

and being mellow, they that found them did gather them up, 

andofteatof them to their hurt. So Christiana's boys, as boys 

are apt to do, being pleased with the trees, ^, ,.,. . 

r '_&r > The children eat 

and with the rruit that did hang thereon, did of the enemy's 
pluck them, and began to eat. Their mother "*' 
did also chide them for so doing, but still the boys went on. 
Well, said she, my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is 
none of ours ; but she did not know that they did belong 
to the enemy : I'll warrant you, if she had, she would a 
been ready to die for fear. But that passed, and they went 
on their way. Now by that they we re gone Two ill-favoured 
about two bow-shots from the place that «"" 
led them into the way, they espied two very ill-favoured 
ones coming down apace to meet them. With that Christiana 
and Mercy her friend covered themselves with their veils, 
and so kept on their journey : the children also went on 
before ; so at last they met together. Then they that came 
down to meet them, came just up to the ^j^ ^ a it 
women, as if they would embrace them ; but Christiana and 
Christiana said. Stand back, or go peace- ^"^^ 
ably by as you should. Yet these two, as men that are deaf, 

201 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

regarded not Christiana's words, but began to lay hands 
upon them : at that Christiana, waxing very wroth, spurned 
at them with her feet. Mercy also, as well as she could, 
ThepUgrims ^^'^ what she could to shift them. Chris- 

stnifiTgie with them t\an2L again Said to them, Stand back, and be 
gone, for we have no money to lose, being pilgrims, as ye 
see, and such too as live upon the charity of our friends. 

Ill-Fav. Then said one of the two of the men. We 
make no assault upon you for money, but are come out to 
tell you, that if you will but grant one small request which 
we shall ask, we will make women of you for ever. 

Chr. Now Christiana, imagining what they should 
mean, made answer again. We will neither hear, nor regard, 
nor yield to what you shall ask. We are in haste, 
cannot stay ; our business is a business of life and death. 
So again she and her companion made a fresh essay to go 
past them ; but they letted them in their way. 

Ill-Fav. And they said, We intend no hurt to your 
lives ; 'tis another thing we would have. 

Chr. Ay, quoth Christiana, you would have us body 

and soul, for I know 'tis for that you are 
Shecnesout i ^ -ii j- ^t. ..i. 

come ; but we will die rather upon the 

spot, than suffer ourselves to be brought into such snares 

as shall hazard our well-being hereafter. And with that 

they both shrieked out, and cried. Murder! murder! and 

so put themselves under those laws that are provided for 

the protection of women. But the men still made their 

approach upon them, with design to prevail against them. 

They therefore cried out again. 

Now, they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at 

■T- jx which they came, their voice was heard 

Tis grpod to cry i "^ i i • i i 

out when we are trom whence they were, thither : where- 
fore some of the house came out, and 
knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, they made haste 
The ReUever ^^ ^^^ relief. But by that they were got 

«=o™es within sight of them, the women were in 

a very great scuffle ; the children also stood crying by. 
Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the 

202 




THE BUYS AND THE FRUIT 

So Christiana's boys, as hoys are apt to do, beinp pleased with the 

trees, and with the fruit that did hang thereon, did 

pluck them, and ht^nan to eat. Their mother 

did also chide them for ao doing. 



DISCOURSE WITH RELIEVER 

ruffians, caylng, "What Is that thing that you do ; would you 
make my Lord's people to transgress ? He also attempted 
to take them, but they did make their escape xhe m ones fly to 
over the wall into the garden of the man to ^^^ '•evu for relief 
whom the great dog belonged ; so the dog became their 
protector. This reliever then came up to the women, and 
asked them how they did. So they answered, We thank 
thy Prince, pretty well, only we have been somewhat 
affrighted : we thank thee also for that thou earnest in to 
our help, for otherwise we had been overcome. 

Reliever. So after a few more words, this reliever 
said as followeth : I marvelled much when The Reliever talks 
you was entertained at the gate above, to the women 
being ye knew that ye were but weak women, that you 
petitioned not the Lord there for a conductor ; then might 
you have avoided these troubles and dangers; for He would 
have granted you one. 

Chr. Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken with our 
present blessing, that dangers to come were ^ w h- i 
forgotten by us. Beside, who could have 
thought, that so near the King's palace there should have 
lurked such naughty ones ? Indeed, it had been well for 
us had we asked our Lord for one j but since our Lord 
knew 'twould be for our profit, I wonder He sent not one 
along with us. 

Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not 
asked for, lest by so doing they become of little esteem ; 
but when the want of a thing is felt, it We lose for want 
then comes under, in the eyes of him that of asking for 
feels it, that estimate that properly is its due, and so con- 
sequently will be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted 
you a conductor, you would not neither so have bewailed 
that oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you 
have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and 
tend to make you more wary. 

Chr. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and confess 
our folly, and ask one ? 

ReL Your confession of your folly I will present Him 
202 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

with. To go back again, you need not j for in all places 
where you shall come, you will find no want at all ; for in 
every of my Lord's lodgings, which He has prepared for 
the reception of His pilgrims, there is sufficient to furnish 
them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I said. He 
will be inquired of by them to do it for them. And 'tis 
a poor thing that is not worth asking for. When he had 
thus said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went 
on their way. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, "What a sudden blank is here ! 
The mistake of I made accouut we had now been past all 
^*"y danger, and that we should never see 

sorrow more. 

Chr. Thy innocency, my sister, said Christiana to 
„^ . . , ..^ Mercy, may excuse thee much : but as for 

Christiana s euilt r i • i i c 

me, my rault is so much the greater, tor 
that I saw this danger before I came out of the doors, and 
yet did not provide for it where provision might have been 
had. I am therefore much to be blamed. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, How knew you this before 
you came from home } Pray open to me this riddle. 

Chr. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of 
Christiana's doors. One night, as I lay in my bed, I had 

dream repeated ^ dream about this ; for methought I saw 
two men, as like these as ever the world they could look, 
stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they might prevent 
my salvation. I will tell you their very words. They said 
('twas when I was in my troubles). What shall we do with 
this woman .? for she cries out waking and sleeping for 
forgiveness ; if she be suffered to go on as she begins, 
we shall lose her as we have lost her husband. This you 
know might a made me take heed, and have provided when 
provision might a been had. 

Mer. Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an 
Mercy makes occasiou ministered unto us to behold our 

good use of their own imperfections, so our Lord has taken 
neg ec o u y occasiou thereby to make manifest the riches 
of His grace j for He, as we see^ has followed us with 

20^ 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE 

unasked kindness, and has delivered us from their hands 
that were stronger than we, of His mere good pleasure. 

Thus now when they had talked away a little more time, 
they drew near to a house which stood in the way, which 
house was built for the relief of pilgrims, as you will find 
more fully related in the first part of these records of the 
P'tlgrtms Progress. So they drew on towards the house 
(the house of the Interpreter) ; and when they came to 
the door, they heard a great talk in the Talk in the inter- 
house. They then gave ear, and heard, preters house 

^1 , 1 ^r~„ *? . • 1 i_ about Christiana s 

as they thought, Christiana mentioned by going on pii- 
name ; for you must know, that there went emmage 
along, even before her, a talk of her and her children's 
going on pilgrimage. And this thing was the more pleasing 
to them, because they had heard that she was Christian's 
wife, that woman who was some time ago so unwilling 
to hear of going on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they 
stood still, and heard the good people within commend- 
ing her, who they little thought stood at the door. 
At last Christiana knocked, as she had she knocks at the 
done at the gate before. Now, when she ^°°*' 
had knocked, there came to the door a young damsel, named 
Innocent, and opened the door, and looked, The door is opened 
and behold, two women were there. to them by innocent 

Dam. Then said the damsel to them, With whom 
would you speak in this place ? 

Chr. Christiana answered, We understand that this is 
a privileged place for those that are become pilgrims, and 
we now at this door are such : wherefore we pray that 
we may be partakers of that for which we at this time are 
come ; for the day, as thou seest, is very far spent, and 
we are loth to-night to go any further. 

Dam. Pray what may I call your name, that I may 
tell it to my Lord within ? 

Chr, My name is Christiana ; I was the wife of that 
pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way, and these 
be his four children. This maiden is also my companion, 
and is going on pilgrimage too. 

205 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Innocent. Then Innocent ran in (for that was her 
name), and said to those within, Can you think who is at 
the door? There is Christiana and her children, and her 
companion, all waiting for entertainment here. Then they 
leaped for joy, and went and told their 
fe?iSerpr°e"tlr master. So he came to the door, and 
that Christiana is looking UDon her, he said. Art thou that 

turned pilgrim /-.i • • i /-ii • • i j 

Christiana whom Christian the good man 
left behind him, when he betook himself to a pilgrim's life? 

Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to 
slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to go on 
in his journey alone, and these are his four children ; but 
now I also am come, for I am convinced that no way is 
right but this. 

Inter. Then is fulfilled that which also is written of the 
man that said to his son, Go work to-day in my vineyard; 
and he said to his father, I will not j but afterwards 
repented and went. 

Chr. Then said Christiana, So be it. Amen. God 
make it a true saying upon me, and grant that I may be 
found at the last of Him in peace, without spot, and 
blameless. 

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door? 
Come in, thou daughter of Abraham ; we were talking 
of thee but now, for tidings have come to us before how 
thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in ; come, 
maiden, come in. So he had them ail into the house. 

So when they were within, they were bidden sit 
down and rest them ; the which when they had done, 
those that attended upon the pilgrims in the house, came 
into the room to see them. And one smiled, and another 
smiled, and they all smiled for joy that 
s°eetheyoun1lfnes Christiana was become a pilgrim. They 
walk in God's also looked upon the boys, they stroked 

^^^ them over the faces with the hand in 

token of their kind reception of them : they also carried it 
lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome into their 
master's house. 

206 



MAN WITH MUCK-RAKE 

After a while, because supper was not ready, the 
Interpreter took them into his Significant xhe Significant 
Rooms, and showed them what Christian, Rooms 
Christiana's husband, had seen some time before. Here 
therefore they saw the man in the cage, the man and his 
dream, the man that cut his way through his enemies, and the 
picture of the biggest of them all, together with the rest 
of those things that were then so profitable to Christian. 

This done, and after these things had been some- 
what digested by Christiana and her company, the Inter- 
preter takes them apart again, and has them first into a 
room, where was a man that could look ^, .^, ^. 

' , , 1 • I The man with the 

no way but downwards, with a muck- muck-rake ex- 
rake in his hand. There stood also one ^°"° ^ 
over his head, with a celestial crown in his hand, and 
proffered to give him that crown for his muck-rake ; but the 
man did neither look up nor regard, but raked to himself 
the straws, the small sticks, and dust of the floor. 

Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know 
somewhat the meaning of this : for this is a figure of a 
man of this world ; is it not, good sir ? 

Inter. Thou hast said the right, said he ; and his 
muck-rake doth show his carnal mind. And whereas thou 
seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and sticks, 
and the dust of the floor, than to do what He says that 
calls to him from above with the celestial crown in 
His hand ; it is to show, that heaven is but as a fable to 
some, and that things here are counted the only things 
substantial. Now, whereas it was also showed thee that 
the man could look no way but downwards ; it is to let 
thee know that earthly things, when they are with power 
upon men's minds, quite carry their hearts away from 
God. 

Chr. Then said Christiana, O deliver Christiana's 

me from this muck-rake. prayer against the 

Inter. That prayer, said the Inter- """^ '"^^ 
preter, has lain by till 'tis almost rusty : Give me not 
riches, is scarce the prayer of one of ten thousand. Straws, 

207 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and sticks, and dust, with most, are the great things now 
looked after. 

With that Mercy and Christiana wept, and said, It is, 
alas ! too true. 

When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had 
them into the very best room in the house ; — a very brave 
room it was. So he bid them look round about, and see 
if they could find anything profitable there. Then they 
looked round and round ; for there was 
Of the spider nothing there to be seen but a very great 

spider on the wall, and that they overlooked. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing: but 
Christiana held her peace. 

Inter. But, said the Interpreter, look again. She 

therefore looked again, and said, Here is not any thing 

but an ugly spider, who hangs by her 
Of the spider j^^^^^ ^^^^ ^j^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^jj ^^^ j^ 

there but one spider in all this spacious room ? Then the 

water stood in Christiana's eyes, for she was a woman 

Talk about the quick of apprehension : and she said. Yea, 

spider Lord, there are more here than one ; yea, 

and spiders whose venom is far more destructive than that 

which is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleasantly 

upon her, and said. Thou hast said the truth. This made 

Mercy blush, and the boys to cover their faces ; for they 

all began now to understand the riddle. 

Then said the Interpreter again, The spider taketh 

hold with her hands, as you see, and is in kings' palaces. 

And wherefore is this recorded, but to show you, that 

how full of the venom of sin soever you 
Theiaterpretation ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ f^j^j^^ 

lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to 
the King's house above ? 

Chr. I thought, said Christiana, of something of this; 
but I could not imagine it all. I thought that we were 
like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures, in 
what fine room soever we were : but that by this spider, 
this venomous and ill-favoured creature, we were to learn 

208 




TUE MAN WITH THE MUCK-RAKE 

4 man that could look no irau 6"* downwards, with a muck-r"ke 

in his hand. There stood also One over his head, with a 

celestial crown in His hand, and proffered to give 

him that orotcn for his muck-rake 



THE HEN AND CHICKENS 

how to act faith, that came not into my mind; ''and 
yet she had taken hold with her hands, as I see, and 
dwells in the best room in the house. God has made 
nothing in vain. 

Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water stood 
in their eyes : yet they looked one upon another, and also 
bowed before the Interpreter. 

He had them then into another room, where were a hen 
and chickens, and bid them observe a while, of the hen and 
So one of the chickens went to the trough chickens 
to drink j and every time she drank she lifted up her head 
and her eyes towards heaven. See, said he, what this 
little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence 
your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up. 
Yet again, said he, observe and look : so they gave heed, 
and perceived that the hen did walk in a four-fold method 
towards her chickens : I. She had a common call, and that 
she hath all day long. 2. She had a special call, and that 
she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note. 
And, 4. She had an outcry. 

Now, said he, compare this hen to your King, and these 
chickens to His obedient ones ; for answerable to her. Him- 
self has His methods which He walketh in towards His 
people. By His common call. He gives nothing ; by His 
special call, He always has something to give ; He has also 
a brooding voice, for them that are under His wing ; and 
He has an outcry, to give the alarm when He seeth the 
enemy come. I chose, my darlings, to lead you into the 
room where such things are, because you are women, and 
they are easy for you. 

Chr. And, sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some 
more. So he had them into the slaughter-house, where was 
a butcher killing of a sheep; and behold, ofthebutcher 
the sheep was quiet, and took her death and the sheep 
patiently. Then said the Interpreter, You must leara 
of this sheep to suffer, and to put up wrongs without 
murmurings and complaints. Behold how quietly she 
takes her death, and, without objecting, she sufFereth her 

209 o 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

skin to be pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you 

His sheep. 

After this, he led them into his garden, where was great 

_,^. . variety of flowers : and he said. Do you 

Of the garden ^^ ^ 50 /^u • • • j -^ 

see all these r 00 L-hnstiana said, Yes. 

Then said he again. Behold, the flowers are divers in 

stature, in quality, and colour, and smell, and virtue ; and 

some are better than some ; also where the gardener has 

set them, there they stand, and quarrel not one with another. 

Again, he had them into his field, which he had sowed 
Of th fi Id with wheat and corn : but when they 

beheld the tops of all were cut off, only 
the straw remained, he said again, This ground was dunged, 
and ploughed, and sowed, but what shall we do with the 
crop } Then said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck 
of the rest. Then said the Interpreter again. Fruit, you 
see, is that thing you look for ; and for want of that you 
condemn it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of 
men : beware that in this you condemn not yourselves. 

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they espied 
Of the robin a little robin with a great spider in his 

and the spider mouth. So the Interpreter said. Look 

here. So they looked, and Mercy wondered •, but 
Christiana said. What a disparagement is it to such a 
little pretty bird as the robin-red-breast is, he being also 
a bird above many, that loveth to maintain a kind of 
sociableness with men ! I had thought they had lived 
upon crumbs of bread, or upon other such harmless 
matter ; I like him worse than I did. 

The Interpreter then replied. This robin is an emblem, 
very apt to set forth some professors by ; for to sight they 
are, as this robin, pretty of note, colour, and carriages. 
They seem also to have a very great love for professors 
that are sincere ; and, above all other, to desire to sociate 
with, and to be in their company, as if they could live 
upon the good man's crumbs. They pretend also, that 
therefore it is that they frequent the house of the godly, 
and the appointments of the Lord : but when they are by 

210 



THE INTERPRETER'S SAYINGS 

themselves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble up 
spiders ; they can change their diet, drink iniquity, and 
swallow down sin like water. 

So when they were come again into the house, because 
supper as yet was not ready, Christiana 
again desired that the Interpreter would wluget^atthat 
either show, or tell of, some other things unrepealed*" 
that are profitable. 

Then the Interpreter began, and said : The fatter the 
sow is, the more she desires the mire ; the fatter the ox is, 
the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; and the 
more healthy the lustful man is, the more prone he is unto 
evil. There is a desire in women to go neat and fine ; 
and it is a comely thing to be adorned with that that in 
God's sight is of great price. 'Tis easier watching a night 
or two, than to sit up a whole year together : so 'tis easier 
for one to begin to profess well, than to hold out as he 
should to the end. Every shipmaster, when in a storm, 
will willingly cast that overboard that is of the smallest 
value in the vessel ; but who will throw the best out first ? 
None but he that feareth not God. One leak will sink a 
ship, and one sin will destroy a sinner. He that forgets 
his friend, is ungrateful unto him ; but he that forgets his 
Saviour, is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin, 
and looks for happiness hereafter, is like him that soweth 
cockle, and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or barley. If 
a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to hiin, 
and make it always his company-keeper. Whispering, and 
change of thoughts, prove that sin is in the world. If the 
world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of that 
worth with men, what is heaven that God commendeth ! 
If the life that is attended with so many troubles, is so loth 
to be let go by us, what is the life above ! Everybody 
will cry up the goodness of men ; but who is there that is, 
as he should be, affected with the goodness of God ? We 
seldom sit down to meat, but we eat, and leave. So there 
is in Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the 
whole world has need of. 

2U 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out into 
Of the tree that his garden again, and had them to a tree, 
is rotten at heart whosc inside was all Totten and gone, and 
yet it grew and had leaves. Then said Mercy, What 
means this ? This tree, said he, whose outside is fair, and 
whose inside is rotten, is that to which many may be com- 
pared that are in the garden of God ; who with their mouths 
speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing 
for Him ; whose leaves are fair, but their heart good for 
nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinderbox. 

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things 
They are at Set ou board; SO they sat down, and did 

s^vp" eat, when one had given thanks. And 

the Interpreter did usually entertain those that lodged 
with him with music at meals ; so the minstrels played. 
There was also one that did sing, and a very fine voice he 
had. His song was this : 

The Lord is only my support, 

And He that doth me feed ; 
How can I then want any thing 

Whereof I stand in need? 

When the song and music were ended, the Interpreter 
asked Christiana, what it was that at first 
supper ^.^ move her thus to betake herself to a 
pilgrim's life. Christiana answered. First, the loss of my 
A repetition of husband Came into my mind, at which I 

Christiana's ex- was heartily grieved ; but all that was but 
perience natural affection. Then after that came the 

troubles and pilgrimage of my husband into my mind, 
and also how like a churl I had carried it to him as to that. 
So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me 
into the pond, but that opportunely I had a dream of the 
well-being of my husband, and a letter sent me by the King 
of that country where my husband dwells, to come to Him. 
The dream and the letter together so wrought upon my 
mind, that they forced me to this way. 

Inter. But met you with no opposition afore you set 
out of doors ? 

212 



MERCY'S EXPERIENCE 

Chr. Yes, a neighbour of mine, one Mrs Timorous : 
she was akin to him that would have persuaded my 
husband to go back for fear of the lions. She all-to-be- 
fooled me for, as she called it, my intended desperate 
adventure ; she also urged what she could to dishearten 
me to it, the hardships and troubles that my husband 
met with in the way ; but all this I got over pretty well. 
But a dream that I had of two ill-looked ones, that I 
thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my journey, 
that hath troubled me much : yea, it still runs in my mind, 
and makes me afraid of every one that I meet, lest they 
should meet me to do me a mischief, and to turn me out 
of the way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would 
not have everybody know it, that between this and the 
gate by which we got into the way, we were both so 
sorely asaaulted, that we were made to cry out murder ; 
and the two that made this assault upon us were like the 
two that I saw in my dream. 

Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is good ; thy 
latter end shall greatly increase. So he a question put 
addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto to Mercy 
her, And what moved thee to come hither, sweet-heart ? 

Men Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a 
while continued silent. 

Inter. Then said he, Be not afraid j only believe, and 
speak thy mind. 

Mer. So she began, and said. Truly, sir, my want of ex- 
perience is that that makes me covet to be in 
silence, and that also that fills me with fears ^"'^^'^ answer 
of coming short at last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as 
my friend Christiana can; nor know I what it is to mourn for 
my refusing of the counsel of those that were good relations. 

Inter. What was it then, dear heart, that hath pre- 
vailed with thee to do as thou hast done ? 

Mer. Why, when our friend here was packing up to 
be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally to 
see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. When 
we were within, and seeing what she was doing, we asked 

21 g 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

what was her meaning. She said, she was sent for to 
go to her husband ; and then she up and told us how she 
had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious place, 
among immortals, wearing a crown, playing upon a harp, 
eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and singing praises 
to Him for bringing him thither, etc. Now methought 
while she was telling these things unto us, my heart burned 
within me. And I said in my heart. If this be true, I will 
leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, 
and will, if I may, go along with Christiana. So I asked 
her further of the truth of these things, and if she would 
let me go with her ; for I saw now, that there was no 
dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any longer in our 
town. But yet I came away with a heavy heart j not for 
that I was unwilling to come away, but for that so many 
of my relations were left behind. And I am come with 
all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, with 
Christiana unto her husband and his King. 

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given 
credit to the truth ; thou art a Ruth, who did, for the love 
that she bare to Naomi, and to the Lord her God, leave 
father and mother, and the land of her nativity, to come 
out and go with a people that she knew not heretofore. 
The Lord recompense thy work, and full reward be given 
thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings thou 
art come to trust. 

Now supper was ended, and preparations were made for 
^^ ^j^ bed •, the women were laid singly alone, 

themselves for and the boys by themselves. Now when 

Mercy was in bed, she could not sleep for 
joy, for that now her doubts of missing at last were re- 
Mercy's good moved further froni her than ever they 
niffhtsrest were before. So she lay blessing and 
praising God, who had had such favour for her. 

In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared 
themselves for their departure : but the Interpreter would 
have them tarry a while ; For, said he, you must orderly 
go from hence. Then said he to the damsel that at first 

.214 



THE BATH 

opened unto them, Take them and have them into the garden 
to the bath, and there wash them, and The bath of 
make them clean from the soil which they Sanctification 
have gathered by travelling. Then Innocent the damsel 
took them and had them into the garden, and brought 
them to the bath ; so she told them, that there they must 
wash and be clean, for so her master would have the 
women to do, that called at his house as they were going 
on pilgrimage. Then they went in and 
washed, yea, they and the boys and all; eywas 
and they came out of the bath, not only sweet and clean, 
but also much enlivened, and strengthened in their joints. 
So when they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when 
they went out to the washing. 

When they were returned out of the garden from the 
bath, the Interpreter took them, and looked upon them, 
and said unto them. Fair as the moon. Then he called 
for the seal, wherewith they used to be sealed that were 
washed in his bath. So the seal was 
brought, and he set his mark upon them, eyareseae 
that they might be known in the places whither they were 
yet to go. Now the seal was the contents and sum of the 
passover which the children of Israel did eat, when they 
came out from the land of Egypt ; and the mark was 
set betwixt their eyes. This seal greatly added to their 
beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also 
added to their gravity, and made their countenances more 
like those of angels. 

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that 
waited upon these women, Go into the vestry, and fetch 
out garments for these people. So she went and fetched 
out white raiment, and laid it down before him ; so he 
commanded them to put it on : it was fine 

1. 1 • J 1 -KTTi. ..u They are clothed 

Imen, white and clean. When the women 

were thus adorned, they seemed to be a terror one to the 

other ; for that they could not see that 

glory each one had on herself, which they ™* um i y 

could see in each other. Now therefore they began to 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

esteem each other better than themselves. For, You are 
fairer than I am, said one ; and, You are more comely than 
I am, said another. The children also stood amazed, to 
see into what fashion they were brought. 

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, 
one Great-heart, and bid him take sword, and helmet, and 
shield J and. Take these my daughters, said he, and conduct 
them to the house called Beautiful, at which place they 
will rest next. So he took his weapons, and went before 
them ; and the Interpreter said, God speed. Those also 
that belonged to the family, sent them away with many a 
good wish. So they went on their way, and sang : 

This place has been our second stage: 

Here we have heard and seen 
Those good things, that from age to age 

To others hid have been. 

The dunghill-raker, spider, hen, 

The chicken, too, to me 
Hath taught a lesson : let me then 

Conformed to it be. 

The butcher, garden, and the field, 

The robin and his bait, 
Also the rotten tree, doth yield 
f Me argument of weight ; 

To move me for to watch and pray 

To strive to be sincere: 
To take my cross up day by day, 

And serve the Lord with fear. 

Now I saw in my dream, that they went on, and Great- 
heart went before them. So they went, and came to the place 
where Christian's burden fell off his back, and tumbled 
into a sepulchre. Here then they made a pause ; and here 
also they blessed God. Now, said Christiana, it comes to 
my mind what was said to us at the gate, to wit, that we 
should have pardon by word and deed ; by word, that is, 
by the promise ; by deed, to wit, in the way it was ob- 
tained. What the promise is, of that I know something ; 

216 



JUSTIFIED BY CHRIST 

but what is it to have pardon by deed, or in the way that 
it was obtained, Mr Great-heart, I suppose you know, 
wherefore, if you please, let us hear your discourse thereof. 
Great. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained 
by some one for another that hath need a comment upon 
thereof: not by the person pardoned, but what was said at 

, . •', ^ , • 1 • 1 T 1 the eate, or a dis- 

m the way, saith another, in which 1 have course of our being 
obtained it. So then, to speak to the Justified by Christ 
question more at large, the pardon that you, and Mercy, 
and these boys, have attained, was obtained by another; 
to wit, by Him that let you in at the gate. And He hath 
obtained it in this double way ; He has performed righteous- 
ness to cover you, and spilt blood to wash you in. 

Chr. But if He parts with His righteousness to us, 
what will He have for Himself.'* 

Great. He has more righteousness than you have need 
of, or than He needeth Himself. 

Chr. Pray make that appear. 

Great. With all my heart : but first I must premise, 
that He of whom we are now about to speak, is one that 
has not His fellow. He has two natures in one person, 
plain to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto 
each of these natures a righteousness belongeth, and each 
righteousness is essential to that nature ; so that one may 
as easily cause the nature to be extinct, as to separate its 
justice or righteousness from it. Of these righteousnesses 
therefore we are not made partakers, so as that they, or 
any of them, should be put upon us, that we might be 
made just, and live thereby. Besides these, there is a 
righteousness, which this person has, as these two natures 
are joined in one. And this is not the righteousness of 
the Godhead, as distinguished from the manhood ; nor the 
righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from the 
Godhead j but a righteousness which standeth in the union 
of both natures, and may properly be called the righteous- 
ness that is essential to His being prepared of God to the 
capacity of the mediatory office, which He was to be in- 
trusted with. If He parts with His first righteousness. He 

217 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

parts with His Godhead ; if He parts with His second 
righteousness, He parts with the purity of His manhood ; 
if He parts with this third, He parts with that perfection 
which capacitates Him for the office of mediation. He has 
therefore another righteousness, which standeth in per- 
formance, or obedience to a revealed will j and that is it 
that He puts upon sinners, and that by which their sins 
are covered. Wherefore He saith, As by one man's dis- 
obedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of 
One shall many be made righteous. 

Chr. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us ? 

Great. Yes ; for though they are essential to His natures 
and office, and so cannot be communicated unto another; yet 
it is by virtue of them that the righteousness that justifies 
is for that purpose efficacious. The righteousness of His 
Godhead gives virtue to His obedience ; the righteousness 
of His manhood giveth capability to His obedience to 
jTTS«-ify; and the righteousness that standeth in the union 
of these two natures to His office, giveth authority to that 
righteousness to do the work for which it is ordained. 

So then here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has 
no need of; for He is God without it. Here is a righteous- 
ness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make Him so ; 
for He is perfect man without it. Again, here is a righteous- 
ness that Christ, as God-man, has no need of; for He is 
perfectly so without it. Here then is a righteousness that 
Christ, as God, as man, as God-man, has no need of with 
reference to Himself, and therefore He can spare it ; a 
justifying righteousness, that He for Himself wanteth 
not, and therefore He giveth it away. Hence 'tis called 
the gift of righteousness. This righteousness, since 
Christ Jesus the Lord has made Himself under the law, 
must be given away ; for the law doth not only bind him 
that is under it, to do justly, but to use charity. Where- 
fore he must, he ought by the law, if he hath two coats, 
to give one to him that has none. Now our Lord indeed 
hath two coats, one for Himself, and one to spare ; where- 
fore He freely bestows one upon those that have none, 

218 



JUSTIFIED BY CHRIST 

And thus, Christiana and Mercy, and the rest of you that 
are here, doth your pardon come by deed, or by the work 
of another man. Your Lord Christ is He that has worked, 
and given away what He wrought for to the next poor 
beggar He meets. 

But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must 
something be paid to God as a price, as well as something 
prepared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered us up to 
the just curse of a righteous law : now from this curse we 
must be justified by way of redemption, a price being 
paid for the harms we have done ; and this is by the 
blood of your Lord, who came and stood in your place 
and stead, and died your death for your transgressions. 
Thus has He ransomed you from your transgressions by 
blood, and covered your polluted and deformed souls 
with righteousness, for the sake of which, God passeth 
by you, and will not hurt you when He comes to judge 
the world. 

Chr. This is brave ! Now I see that there was 
something to be learned by our being Christiana 
pardoned by word and deed. Good affected with this 
Mercy, let us labour to keep this in ^^^° '^ emption 
mind : and, my children, do you remember it also. But, 
sir, was not this it that made my good Christian's burden 
fall from off his shoulder, and that made him give three 
leaps for joy ? 

Great. Yes, 'twas the belief of this that cut those 
strings, that could not be cut by other 
means ; and 'twas to give him a proof SaTboind'cffi 
of the virtue of this, that he was suffered tian's burden to 

... , , nun were cut 

to carry his burden to the cross. 

Chr. I thought so ; for though my heart was lightful 
and joyous before, yet it is ten times more lightsome and 
joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I have felt, 
though I have felt but little as yet, that if the most 
burdened man in the world was here, and did see and 
believe as I now do, 'twould make his heart merry and 
blithe. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Great. There is not only comfort and the ease of a 
Howaffectionto ^urden brought to us by the sight and 
Christ is begot Consideration of these, but an endeared 

affection begot in us by it ; for who can, 
if he doth but once thinlc that pardon comes not only by 
promise but thus, but be affected with the way and means 
of his redemption, and so with the Man that hath wrought 
it for him ? 

Chr. True ; methinks it makes my heart bleed, to 
think that He should bleed for me. O Thou loving 
One ! O Thou blessed One ! Thou deservest to have 
me ; Thou hast bought me. Thou deservest to have 
Cause of admira- ^e all; Thou hast paid for me ten 
*'°° thousand times more than I am worth. 

No marvel that this made the water stand in my husband's 
eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on. I am 
persuaded he wished me with him : but, vile wretch that I 
was ! I let him come all alone. O Mercy, that thy father 
and mother were here ! yea, and Mrs Timorous also ! nay, 
I wish now with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton 
too. Surely, surely, their hearts would be affected ; nor 
could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the 
other, prevail with them to go home again, and to refuse 
to become good pilgrims. 

Great. You speak now in the warmth of your 
affections; will it, think you, be always thus with you? 
Besides, this is not communicated to every one, not to 
every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were 
that stood by, and that saw the blood run from His heart 
to the ground, and yet were so far off this, that, instead of 
lamenting, they laughed at Him, and, instead of becoming 
To be affected ^^^ disciples, did harden their hearts 

with Christ, and against Him. So that all that you have, 

with what He has " , , . , ■' ,. • 

done, is a thing my daughters, you have by peculiar im- 
speciai pression made by a divine contemplating 

upon what I have spoken to you. Remember that 'twas 
told you, that the hen, by her common call, gives no meat 
to her chickens. This you have therefore by a special grace. 

220 



SIMPLE AND SLOTH 

Now I saw still in my dream, that they went on until 
they were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, and 
Presumption lay and slept in, when Christian went by on 
pilgrimage : and behold, they were hanged up in irons a 
little way off on the other side. 

Men Then said Mercy to him that was their 
guide and conductor, What are these simple, and sioth. 
three men ? and for what are they hanged and Presumption 

1 p J <-> hanged; and why 

Great. These three men were men of very bad qualities ; 
they had no mind to be pilgrims themselves, and whoso- 
ever they could they hindered. They were for sloth and 
folly themselves, and whoever they could persuade with 
they made so too, and withal taught them to presume that 
they should do well at last. They were asleep when 
Christian went by, and now you go by they are hanged. 

Mer. But could they persuade any to be of their 
opinion ? 

Great. Yes, they turned several out of the way. 
There was Slow-pace that they persuaded 

^ J ^u •T'l, I •! J '^i. Their crmies 

to do as they. 1 hey also prevailed with 
one Short-wind, with one No-heart, with one Linger-after- 
lust, and with one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman, 
her name was Dull, to turn out of the way and become 
as they. Besides, they brought up an ill ^j^^ ^j^^y ^^^_ 
report of your Lord, persuading others that vailed upon to turn 
He was a taskmaster. They also brought °" ° ^^^^ 
up an evil report of the good land, saying, 'twas not half so 
good as some pretend it was. They also began to vilify 
His servants, and to count the very best of them meddlesome, 
troublesome busy-bodies. Further, they would call the 
bread of God husks ; the comforts of His children fancies ; 
the travel and labour of pilgrims, things to no purpose. 

Chr. Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they 
shall never be bewailed by me : they have but what they 
deserve ; and I think it is well that they hang so near the 
highway, that others may see and take warning. But had 
it not been well if their crimes had been engraven in some 

221 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

plate of iron or brass, and left here even where they did 
their mischiefs, for a caution to other bad men ? 

Great. So it is, as you well may perceive, if you will 
go a little to the wall. 

Mer. No, no j let them hang, and their names rot, and 
their crimes live for ever against them. I think it a high 
favour that they were hanged afore we came hither ; 
who knows else what they might a done to such poor 
women as we are ? Then she turned it into a song, saying : 

Now then you three hang there, and be a sign 
To all that shall against the truth combine. 
And let him that comes after fear this end, 
If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. 
And thou, mj soul, of all such men beware. 
That unto holiness opposers are. 

Thus they went on till they came at the foot of the Hill 
Difficulty, where again their good friend Mr Greatheart 
took an occasion to tell them of what happened there when 
Christian himself went by. So he had them first to the 
spring. Lo, saith he, this is the spring that Christian drank 
of before he went up this hill : and then 
^ttin'|^o"good 'twas clear and good ; but now 'tis dirty 
doctrine in with the feet of some that are not desirous 

erroneous tunes ... i i • 

that pilgrims here should quench their 
thirst. Thereat Mercy said. And why so envious, trow ? 
But, said the guide, it will do, if taken up and put into a 
vessel that is sweet and good ; for then the dirt will sink 
to the bottom, and the water come out by itself more clear. 
Thus therefore Christiana and her companions were com- 
pelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an earthen 
pot, and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to the bottom, 
and then they drank thereof. 

Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at the 
foot of the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost them- 
selves. And, said he, these are dangerous 
barrel* up *wUi not paths. Two Were here cast away when 
'^^fn lli t™em Christian came by ; and although, as you 

see, these ways are since stopped up 
with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are that will 

222 




CLIMBING THE HILL DIFFICULTY 
Come, come," said Great-heart, "sit not down here; for a 
little above ia the Prince's arbour." 



ARBOUR ON THE HILL 

choose to adventure here rather than take the pains to go 
up this hill. 

Chr. The way of transgressors is hard. 'Tis a wonder 
that they can get into those ways without danger of break- 
ing their necks. 

Great. They will venture ; yea, if at any time any of 
the King's servants doth happen to see them, and doth call 
upon them, and tell them that they are in the wrong way, 
and do bid them beware of the danger ; then they will 
railingly return them answer, and say. As for the word 
that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the King, 
we will not hearken unto thee j but we will certainly 
do whatsoever thing goeth out of our own mouths. 
Nay, if you look a little further, you will see that these 
ways are made cautionary enough, not only by these posts, 
and ditch, and chain, but also by being hedged up : yet 
they will choose to go there. 

Chr. They are idle ; they love not to take pains ; up^ 
hill way is unpleasant to them. So it is TK«,»,e«„„w 

r 1/-11 J 1 . • • •-T->i The reason why 

fulnlied unto them as it is written. The some do choose 
way of the slothful man is a hedge of °s°^° y-way 
thorns. Yea, they will rather choose to walk upon a snare, 
than to go up this hill, and the rest of this way to the city. 

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and 
up the hill they went. But before they The hm puts the 
got to the top, Christiana began to pant, pilgrims to it 
and said, I dare say this is a breathing hill ; no marvel if 
they that love their ease more than their souls choose to 
themselves a smoother way. Then said Mercy, I must sit 
down : also the least of the children began to cry. Come, 
come, said Great-heart, sit not down here ; for a little 
above is the Prince's arbour. Then took he the little boy 
by the hand, and led him up thereto. 

When they were come to the arbour, they were very 
willing to sit down, for they were all in a They sit in the 
pelting heat. Then said Mercy, How arbour 
sweet is rest to them that labour, and how good is the 
Prince of pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them ! 

222 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Of this arbour I have heard much ; but I never saw it 
before. But here let us beware of sleeping; for, as I have 
heard, for that it cost poor Christian dear. 

Then said Mr Great-heart to the little ones. Come, my 
pretty boys, how do you do ? what think you now of going 
on pilgrimage ? Sir, said the least, I was 
answer to the^ almost beat out of heart ; but I thank you 

t?'Mer^^^^° for lending me a hand at my need. And I 

remember now what my mother has told 
me, namely, that the way to heaven is as up a ladder, and 
the way to hell is as down a hill. But I had rather go up 
the ladder to life, than down the hill to death. 

Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, To go down the 
hill is easy. But James said (for that was his name). The 
Which is hardest. ^^Y '^^ comiug wheu, in my opinion, going 
uphiUordown dowu hill wiU be the hardest of all. 

'Tis a good boy, said his master; thou 
hast given her a right answer. Then Mercy smiled, but 
the little boy did blush. 

Chr. Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, a little 
They refresh to sweeten your mouths while you sit here 

themselves j-q j-ggt your legs ? for I have here a piece 

of pomegranate, which Mr Interpreter put in my hand 
just when I came out of his doors : he gave me also a piece 
of a honeycomb, and a little bottle of spirits. I thought 
he gave you something, said Mercy, because he called 
you a to-side. Yes, so he did, said the other ; but, 
Mercy, it shall still be as I said it should, when at first we 
came from home ; thou shalt be a sharer in all the good 
that I have, because thou so willingly didst become my 
companion. Then she gave to them, and they did eat, 
both Mercy and the boys. And, said Christiana to 
Mr Great-heart, sir, will you do as we .•' But he 
answered, You are going on pilgrimage, and presently 
I shall return ; much good may what you have do to 
you : at home I eat the same every day. Now when they 
had eaten and drank, and had chatted a little longer, their 
guide said to them, The day wears away ; if you think 

224 



CHRISTIANA'S SPIRITS 

good, let us prepare to be going. So they got up to go, 
and the little boys went before ; but Christiana forgot to 
take her bottle of spirits with her, so she Christiana for- 
sent her httle boy back to fetch it. Then gets her bottle 
said Mercy, I think this is a losing place ; ° *^*" ^ 
here Christian lost his roll, and here Christiana left her 
bottle behind her : sir, what is the cause of this ? So their 
guide made answer, and said. The cause is sleep, or forget- 
fulness: some sleep when they should keep awake, and 
some forget when they should remember ; and this is the 
very cause why often at the resting-places some pilgrims, 
in some things, come off losers. Pilgrims should watch, 
and remember what they have already received, under their 
greatest enjoyments \ but for want of doing t th- i 

so, ofttimes their rejoicing ends in tears, 
and their sunshine in a cloud 5 witness the story of Christian 
at this place. 

When they were come to the place where Mistrust and 
Timorous met Christian, to persuade him to go back for 
fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and 
before it, towards the road, a broad plate, with a copy of 
verses written thereon, and underneath the reason of the 
raising up of that stage in that place rendered. The 
verses were these : 

Let him that sees this stage, take heed 

Unto his heart and tongue: 
Lest, if he do not, here he spead 

As some have long agone. 

The words underneath the verses were, This stage 
was built to punish such upon who, through timorous- 
ness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go further on pilgrim- 
age. Also, on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous 
were burned through the tongue with a hot iron, for 
endeavouring to hinder Christian in his journey. 

Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of 
the Beloved, What shall be given unto thee, or what 
shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue ? Sharp arrows 
of the mighty, with coals of juniper. 

225 p 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

So they went on till they came within sight of the lions. 
Now Mr Great-heart was a strong man, so he was not 
afraid of a lion. But yet when they were come up to the 
place where the lions were, the boys, that went before. 
An emblem of ^ere uow glad to cringe behind, for they 

those that gro on were afraid of the lions; so they stepped 
there is no*"* back, and went behind. At this their 

sh"mk'^i(rhen guidc smiled, and said, How now, my 

troubles come boys, do you love to go before when no 

danger doth approach, and love to come behind so soon 
as the lions appear ? 

Now as they went up Mr Great-heart drew his sword, 
with intent to make a way for the pilgrims in spite of the 
^,^ . ^ lions. Then there appeared one that, it 

OfGnmthe , . , ^^ i . 1,1 

giant, and of his scems, had taken upon him to back the 

backing the lions jj^^g . ^^^ ^^ g^|j ^^ ^j^^ pilgrims' guide, 

"What is the cause of your coming hither ? Now the 
name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because of 
his slaying of pilgrims ; and he was of the race of the giants. 

Great. Then said the pilgrims' guide. These women 
and children are going on pilgrimage, and this is the way 
they must go ; and go it they shall, in spite of thee and 
the lions. 

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go 
therein. I am come forth to withstand them, and to that 
end will back the lions. 

Now, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the 
lions, and of the grim carriage of him that did back 
them, this way had of late lain much unoccupied, and 
was almost all grown over with grass. 

Chr. Then said Christiana, Though the highways have 
been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers 
have been made in time past to walk through bypaths, it 
must not be so now I am risen, now I am risen a mother 
in Israel. 

Grim. Then he swore by the lions but it should, and 
therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not have 
passage there. 

226 



THE PORTER'S LODGE 

But Great-heart their guide made first his approach 
unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him ., u..u .^ ,. 

. . 1 . 1 1 1 r 11. A fight betwixt 

with his sword, that he forced him to a Grim and Great- 
heart 

retreat. 

Grim. Then said he that attempted to back the lions. 
Will you slay me upon mine own ground ? 

Great. 'Tis the King's highway that we are in, and in 
His way it is that thou hast placed thy lions 5 but these 
women, and these children, though weak, shall hold on 
their way in spite of thy lions. And with that he gave 
him again a downright blow, and brought him upon his 
knees. With this blow he also broke his helmet, and 
with the next he cut off an arm. Then did the giant roar 
so hideously, that his voice frighted the women, and 
yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the 
ground. Now the lions were chained, and so of them- 
selves could do nothing. Wherefore, 
when old Grim, that intended to back evicory 
them, was dead, Mr Great-heart said to the pilgrims. 
Come now, and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to 
you from the lions. They therefore went They pass by the 
on, but the women trembled as they passed ^^°^^ 
by them ; the boys also looked as if they would die ; but 
they all got by without further hurt. 

Now then they were within sight of the Porter's 
lodge, and they soon came up unto it ; but they made the 
more haste after this to go thither, because 'tis dangerous 
travelling there in the night. So when they were come to 
the gate, the guide knocked, and the They come to the 
Porter cried, Who is there? But as soon Porter's lodge 
as the guide had said. It is I, he knew his voice, and came 
down, for the guide had oft before that come thither as 
a conductor of pilgrims. When he was come down he 
opened the gate ; and seeing the guide standing just before 
it (for he saw not the women, for they were behind him), 
he said unto him. How now, Mr Great-heart, what is 
your business here so late to-night ? I have brought, 
said he, some pilgrims hither, where, by my Lord's 

227 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

commandment, they must lodge : I had been here some 
time ago, had I not been opposed by the giant that did 
use to back the lions. But I, after a long and tedious 
combat with him, have cut him off, and have brought the 
pilgrims hither in safety. 

Por. Will you not go in, and stay till morning ? 
Great-heart Great. No, I wiU return to my Lord 

attempts to go tO-night. 

Chr, O sir, I know not how to be 
willing you should leave us in our pilgrimage, you have 
been so faithful and so loving to us. You have fought 
so stoutly for us, you have been so hearty in counselling 
of us, that I shall never forget your favour towards us. 

Men Then said Mercy, Oh that we might have thy 
Thepiijrims company to our journey's end! How 

implore his com- can such poor women as we hold out in 

pany still r i-i r 11 1 • • 

a way so rull or troubles as this way is, 
without a friend and defender ? 

James. Then said James, the youngest of the boys, 
Pray, sir, be persuaded to go with us, and help us, 
because we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as 
it is. 

Great. I am at my Lord's commandment ; if He shall 
allot me to be your guide quite through, I will willingly 
wait upon you. But here you failed at first j for when 
He bid me come thus far with you, then 
want of asking you should have begged me of Him to 
^°'' have gone quite through with you, and 

He would have granted your request. However, at 
present I must withdraw ; and so, good Christiana, Mercy, 
and my brave children, adieu. 

Then the Porter, Mr Watchful, asked Christiana of her 
country, and of her kindred. And she said, I came from 
the City of Destruction. I am a widow woman, and my 
husband is dead ; his name was Christian the pilgrim. 
How ! said the Porter, was he your husband ? Yes, said 
she, and these are his children j and this, pointing to 
Mercy, is one of my townswomen. Then the Porter 

228 



THE PILGRIMS ENTERTAINED 

rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, and there came 
to the door one of the damsels, whose name was Humble- 
mind ; and to her the Porter said, Go tell it within that 
Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, are 
come hither on pilgrimage. She went in therefore, and 
told it. But oh, what a noise for gladness t„„^..u^„^:^^ 

. , .' , , , ,°j. , , Joy at the noise 

was there withm when the damsel did but ofthepUgnms 
drop that word out of her mouth ! coming 

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana 
stood still at the door. Then some of the most grave 
said unto her. Come in, Christiana, come in, thou wife of 
that good man ; come in, thou blessed woman, come in, 
with all that are with thee» So she went in, and they 
followed her that were her children and companions. 
Now when they were gone in, they were had into a very 
large room, where they were bidden to sit down : so they 
sat down, and the chief of the house were called to see 
and welcome the guests. Then they came in, and under- 
standing who they were, did salute each 
one with a kiss, and said, Welcome, ye tj^dfed^at tlT '^ 
vessels of the grace of God ; welcome to sight of one 
us, your friends. 

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the 
pilgrims were weary with their journey, and also made 
faint with the sight of the fight, and of the terrible lions, 
therefore they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to 
go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, refresh 
yourselves first with a morsel of meat ; for they had 
prepared for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce 
belonging thereto, for the Porter had heard before of 
their coming, and had told it to them within. So 
when they had supped, and ended their prayer with a 
psalm, they desired they might go to rest. But let us, 
said Christiana, if we may be so bold as to choose, be 
in that chamber that was my husband's when he was 
here ; so they had them up thither, and they lay all in a 
room. When they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy 
entered into discourse about things that were convenient 

229 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Chr. Little did I think once, when my husband 
Christ's bosom is Went on pilgrimage, that I should ever 

forallpUgrrims a followed. 

Men And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and 
in his chamber to rest, as you do now« 

Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeing his 
face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord the 
ICing with him j and yet now I believe I shall. 

Mer. Hark ! don't you hear a noise ? 
-, . Chr. Yes, 'tis, as I believe, a noise of 

Music . /- . , , 

music, tor joy that we are here. 

Mer. Wonderful ! Music in the house, music in the 
heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are here ! 
Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to 
sleep. 

So in the morning when they were awake, Christiana 
Mercy did laugh Said to Mercy, What was the matter that 
in her sleep ^^^ ^jjj j^ugh in your slcep to-night? I 

suppose you were in a dream. 

Mer. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are you 
sure I laughed ? 

Chr. Yes, you laughed heartily j but prithee, Mercy, 
tell me thy dream. 

Mer. I was a dreamed that I sat all alone in a solitary 
„ , . place, and was bemoaning of the hardness 

of my heart. Now I had not sat there 
long, but methought many were gathered about me to 
see me, and to hear what it was that I said. So they 
hearkened, and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my 
heart. At this some of them laughed at me, some called 
me fool, and some began to thrust me about. With that. 
What her dream methought I looked up and saw one com- 
''*' ing with wings towards me. So he came 

directly to me, and said, Mercy, what aileth thee ? Now 
when he had heard me make my complaint, he said. Peace 
be to thee ; he also wiped mine eyes with his hand- 
kerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. He put 
a chain about my neck, and ear-rings in my ears, and a 



MERCY'S DREAM 

beautiful crown upon my head. Then he took me by the 
hand, and said, Mercy, come after me. So he went up, 
and I followed till we came at a golden gate. Then he 
knocked ; and when they within had opened, the man 
went in, and I followed him up to a throne, upon which 
One sat ; and He said to me, Welcome, daughter. The 
place looked bright and twinkling, like the stars, or rather 
like the sun, and I thought that I saw your husband there : 
so I awoke from my dream. But did I laugh ? 

Chr. Laugh ! ay, and well you might to see yourself 
so well. For you must give me leave to tell you that I 
believe it was a good dream ; and that as you have begun 
to find the first part true, so you shall find the second at 
last. God speaks once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth 
it not ; in a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep 
sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed. 
We need not, when a-bed, lie awake to talk with God ; 
He can visit us while we sleep, and cause us then to 
hear His voice. Our heart ofttimes wakes when we 
sleep, and God can speak to that, either by words, by 
proverbs, by signs and similitudes, as well as if one 
was awake. 

Mer. Well, I am glad of my dream ; for I hope ere 
long to see it fulfilled, to the making of me Mercy glad of 

laugh again. her dream 

Chr. I think it is now time to rise, and to know what 
we must do. 

Mer. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us 
willingly accept of the proffer. I am the more willing to 
stay a while here, to grow better acquainted with these 
maids : methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity have very 
comely and sober countenances. 

Chr. We shall see what they will do. 

So when they were up and ready, they came down, and 
they asked one another of their rest, and if it was com- 
fortable or not. 

Mer. Very good, said Mercy : it was one of the best 
night's lodging that ever I had in my life. 

231 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded 
to stay here a while, you shall have what the house will 
afford. 

Char. Ay, and that with a very good will, said 

They stay here Charity. So they Consented, and stayed 

sometime there about a month, or above, and 

became very profitable one to another. And because 

Prudence would see how Christiana had brought up her 

children, she asked leave of her to cate- 

fj^iSs^cTrL chise them. So she gave her free consent. 

tiana's children Then she began at the youngest, whose 

name was James. 

. u- J Prud. And she said, Come, James, 

James catechised ^ , ,, , 113 

canst thou tell me who made thee r 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and Gk>d the 
Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy. And canst thou tell who saves 
thee ? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy still. But how doth God the Father 
save thee ? 

James. By His grace. 

Prud. How doth God the Son save thee ? 

James. By His righteousness, death and blood, and 
life. 

Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee ? 

James. By His illumination, by His renovation, and 
by His preservation. 

Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be com- 
mended for thus bringing up your children. I suppose I 
need not ask the rest these questions, since the youngest 
of them can answer them so well. I will therefore now 
apply myself to the youngest next. 

Prud. Then she said, Come, Joseph (for his name 

Jose h catechised ^^^ Joseph), will you let me catechise 
josep ca ec e ^^^ p 

Joseph. With all my heart. 
252 



THE CHILDREN CATECHISED 

Prud. "What is man ? 

Joseph. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as 

my brother said. 

Prud. What is supposed by this word, saved ? 

Joseph. That man, by sin, has brought himself into 
a state of captivity and misery. 

Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the 
Trinity ? 

Joseph. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant, 
that none can pull us out of its clutches but God ; and 
that God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him 
indeed out of this miserable state. 

Prud. What is God's design in saving of poor men ? 

Joseph. The glorifying of His name, of His grace and 
justice, etc., and the everlasting happiness of His creature. 

Prud. Who are they that must be saved ? 

Joseph. Those that accept of His salvation. 

Prud. Good boy, Joseph ; thy mother hath taught thee 
well, and thou hast hearkened unto what she has said unto 
thee. 

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest 
but one : 

Prud. Come, Samuel, are you willing samuei catechised 
that 1 should catechise you also r 

Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please. 

Prud. What is heaven ? 

Sam. A place and state most blessed, because God 
dwelleth there. 

Prud. What is hell .? 

Sam. A place and state most woeful, because it is the 
dwelling-place of sin, the devil, and death. 

Prud. Why wouldest thou go to heaven ? 

Sam. That I may see God, and serve Him without 
weariness ; that I may see Christ, and love Him ever- 
lastingly ; that I may have that fulness of the Holy Spirit 
in me, which I can by no means here enjoy. 

Prud. A very good boy also, and one that has learned 
well. 

233 



THE PILGRIM^S PROGRESS 

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name 
Matthew was Matthew ; and she said to him. Come, 

catechised Matthew, shall I also catechise you ? 

Matt. "With a very good will. 

Prud. I ask then, if there was ever any thing that had 
a being antecedent to or before God ? 

Matt. No, for God is eternal ; nor is there any thing, 
excepting Himself, that had a being, until the beginning of 
the first day. For ia six days the Lord made heaven and 
earth, the sea, and all that in them is. 

Prud. "What do you think of the Bible ? 

Matt. It is the holy word of God. 

Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what you 
understand ? 

Matt. Yes, a great deal. 

Prud. What do you do when you meet with such 
places therein that you do not understand ? 

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that 
He will please to let me know all therein that He knows 
will be for my good. 

Prud. How believe you as touching the resurrection 
of the dead ? 

Matt. I believe they shall rise the same that was buried ; 
the same in nature, though not in corruption. And I 
believe this upon a double account : first, because God has 
promised it ; secondly, because He is able to perform it. 

Then said Prudence to the boys. You must still hearken 
to your mother; for she can learn you 
d"s?onupon°th"e Diore. You must also diligently give ear 
^ate^hising of to what good talk you shall hear from 

others j for for your sakes do they speak 
good things. Observe also, and that with carefulness, 
what the heavens and the earth do teach you ; but especially 
be much in the meditation of that hook that was the 
cause of your father's becoming a pilgrim. I, for my part, 
my children, will teach you what I can while you are here, 
and shall be glad if you will ask me questions that tend to 
godly edifying. 



MR BRISK AND MERCY 

Now by that these pilgrims had been at this place a 
week, Mercy had a visitor that pretended some good will 
unto her, and his name was Mr Brisk; a Mercy has a 
man of some breeding, and that pretended sweetheart 
to religion, but a man that stuck very close to the world. 
So he came once, or twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered 
love unto her. Now Mercy was of a fair countenance, and 
therefore the more alluring. 

Her mind also was to be always busying of herself in 
doing ; for when she had nothing to do 
for herself, she would be making of hose ^^^^ emper 
and garments for others, and would bestow them upon 
them that had need. And Mr Brisk, not knowing where 
or how she disposed of what she made, seemed to be 
greatly taken, for that he found her never idle. I warrant 
her a good housewife, quoth he to himself. 

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that 
were of the house, and inquired of them ., , 

' 1. 1 , 1 . Mercy inquires 

concernmg him, for they did know him of the maids con- 
better than she. So they told her, that he ""*"*s^ 
was a very busy young man, and one that pretended to 
religion, but was, as they feared, a stranger to the power 
of that which was good. 

Nay then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him ; for 
I purpose never to have a clog to my soul. 

Prudence then replied, that there needed no great 
matter of discouragement to be given to him ; her con- 
tinuing so as she had begun to do for the poor would 
quickly cool his courage. 

So the next time he comes he finds her at her old work, 
amaking of things for the poor. Then said ^^^j^ betwixt 
he, What ! always at it ? Yes, said she, Mercy and Mr 
either for myself or for others. And 
what canst thou earn a day ? quoth he. I do these 
things, said she, that I may be rich in good works, 
laying up in store a good foundation against the time 
to come, that I may lay hold on eternal life. Why, 
prithee, what dost thou with them .'' said he. Clothe the 

235 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

naked, said she. With that his countenance fell. So he 
He forsakes her forbore to come at her again. And when 
and why ]^q -^as asked the reason why, he said, that 

Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions. 
"When he had left her. Prudence said. Did I not tell 
thee that Mr Brisk would soon forsake thee ? yea, he will 
. raise up an ill report of thee ; for, not- 

practfce'of mercy withstanding his pretence to religion, and 
iSlfrcymThe'* his Seeming love to Mercy, yet Mercy and 

name of mercy is he are of tempers so different that I believe 

liked , Ml 1 

they will never come together. 

Mer. I might a had husbands afore now, though I 
spake not of it to any ; but they were such as did not 
like my conditions, though never did any of them find 
fault with my person. So they and I could not agree. 

Prud. Mercy in our days is little set by any further 
than as to its name : the practice, which is set forth by 
thy conditions, there are but few that can abide. 

Mer. "Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I 
Mercy's resoiu- will die a maid, or my conditions shall 
**°° be to me as a husband ; for I cannot 

change my nature ; and to have one that lies cross to 
me in this, that I purpose never to admit of as long as I 
„ „ , live. I had a sister named Bountiful, that 

How Mercy s . , _ , i i t 

sister was served was mamed to ouc oi these churls; but 
by er us and ^^ ^^^ ^^^ could never agree ; but because 
my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that is, 
to show kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first 
cried her down at the cross, and then turned her out of 
his doors. 

Prud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you ? 

Mer. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he the 
world is now full : but I am for none of them all. 

Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, 
Matthew falls ^J^d his sickuess was sore upon him, for 

^'^ he was much pained in his bowels, so that 

he was with it at times, pulled as 'twere both ends together. 
There dwelt also not far from thence one Mr Skill, ap 

23^. . 




MR BRISK AND MERCI 

So the next time he comes he finds her at her old work, amaking 

of things for the voor. Then said he. "What, always at itr" 



MATTHEW FALLS SICK 

ancient and well-approved physician. So Christiana desired 
it, and they sent for him, and he came. When he was 
entered the room, and had a little observed the boy, he 
concluded that he was sick of the gripes. Gripes of con- 
Then he said to his mother, What diet has science 
Matthew of late fed upon ? Diet ! said Christiana, nothing 
but that which is wholesome. The physician answered. 
This boy has been tampering with some- xhe physidsm's 
thing which lies in his maw undigested, judgment 
and that will not away without means. And I tell you 
he must be purged, or else he will die. 

Sam. Then said Samuel, Mother, what was that which 
my brother did gather up and eat, so soon 
as we were come from the gate that is at moSier in^mlnd^ 
the head of this way ? You know that broJher did eSt 
there was an orchard on the left hand, 
on the other side of the wall, and some of the trees 
hung over the wall, and my brother did pluck and did 
eat. 

Chr. True, my child, said Christiana, he did take 
thereof and did eat : naughty boy as he was, I did chide 
him, and yet he would eat thereof. 

Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not 
wholesome food ; and that food, to wit, that fruit, is even 
the most hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelzebub's 
orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you of it ; many 
have died thereof. 

Chr. Then Christiana began to cry ; and she said. Oh, 
naughty boy ! and oh, careless mother ! what shall I do 
for my son ? 

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected ; the boy 
may do well again, but he must purge and vomit. 

Chr. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, 
whatever it costs. 

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made 
him a purge, but it was too weak ; 'twas . 

said it was made of the blood of a goat, the ^ °° prepar 
ashes of a heifer, and with some of the juice of hyssop. 

237 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

When Mr Skill had seen that that purge was too weak, 
he made him one to the purpose. 'Twas made ex carne 
The Latin I ^^ Sanguine Christi, (you know physicians 

borrow gjyg strange medicines to their patients); 

and it was made up into pills, with a promise or two, 
and a proportionable quantity of salt. Now he was to 
lake them three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of 
a pint of the tears of repentance. 

When this potion was prepared, and brought to the 
The boy loth to boy, he was loth to take it, though torn 
take the physic ^}th the gripes as if he should be pulled 
in pieces. Come, come, said the physician, you must take 
it. It goes against my stomach, said the boy. I must 
have you take it, said his mother. I shall vomit it up 
again, said the boy. Pray, sir, said Christiana to Mr 
Skill, how does it taste ? It has no ill taste, said the 
doctor ; and with that she touched one of 
tastes it and per- the pills with the tip of her tongue. Oh, 
suadeshim Matthew, said she, this potion is sweeter 

than honey. If thou lovest thy mother, if thou lovest 
thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy life, 
take it. So with much ado, after a short prayer for the 
blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it wrought kindly 
with him. It caused him to purge ; it caused him to 
sleep and rest quietly j it put him into a fine heat and 
breathing sweat, and did quite rid him of his gripes. 
A A tn A- So in little time he got up, and walked 

A word of God in , . , m i i i r 

the hand of his about With a Stall, and would go irom 

^^^ room to room, and talk with Prudence, 

Piety, and Charity, of his distemper, and how he was 
healed. 

So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr 
Skill, saying, Sir, what will content you for your pains 
and care to and of my child ? And he said, You must 
pay the Master of the College of Physicians,- according 
to rules made in that case and provided. 

Chr. But, sir, said she, what is this pill good for 
else ? 

238 



PRUDENCE AND MATTHEW 

Skill. It is a universal pill ; 'tis good against all the 
diseases that pilgrims are incident to j and This pm a uni- 
"when it is well prepared, it will keep versafremedy 
good time out of mind. 

Chr. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them ; for 
if I can get these, I will never take other physic. 

Skill. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as 
well as to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare say it, 
and stand to it, that if a man will but use this physic 
as he should, it will make him live for ever. But good 
Christiana, thou must give these pills no !„ a glass of the 
other way but as I have prescribed; for tears of repent- 
if you do, they will do no good. So he 
gave unto Christiana physic for herself, and her boys, and 
for Mercy : and bid Matthew take heed how he ate any 
more green plums, and kissed them, and went his way. 

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, that 
if at any time they would, they should ask her some ques- 
tions that might be profitable, and she would say something 
to them. 

Matt. Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, 
why for the most part physic should be ^r ^ • 
bitter to our palates. 

Prud. To show how unwelcome the word of God and 
the effects thereof are to a carnal heart. 

Matt. Why does physic, if it does of the effects of 
good, purge, and cause that we vomit? physic 

Prud. To show that the word, when it works effec- 
tually, cleanseth the heart and mind. For look, what the 
one doth to the body, the other doth to the soul. 

Matt. What should we learn by seeing the flame of 
our fire go upwards, and by seeing the offire, andofthe 
beams and sweet influences of the sun ^"° 
strike downwards ? 

Prud. By the going up of the fire we are taught to 
ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires. And by the 
sun sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences down- 
wards, we are taught that the Saviour of the world 

239 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

though high, reaches down with His grace and love to us 

below. 

^,,^ , , Matt. "Where have the clouds their 

Of the clouds -. 

water r 

Prud. Out of the sea. 

Matt. What may we learn from that ? 

Prud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from 
God. 

Matt. "Why do they empty themselves upon the 
earth ? 

Prud. To show that ministers should give out what 
they know of God to the world. 
^, , . . Matt. Why is the rainbow caused by 

Of the rainbow , , ■' ■' 

the sun r 
Prud. To show that the covenant of God's grace is 
confirmed to us in Christ. 

Matt. Why do the springs come from 

Of the springs , ^ , 1113 

the sea to us through the earth r 
Prud. To show that the grace of God comes to us 

through the body of Christ. 

Matt. Why do some of the springs rise out of the 

tops of high hills ? 

Prud. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring up 

in some that are great and mighty, as well as in many that 

are poor and low. 

^ . Matt. Why doth the fire fasten upon 

Of the candle ^, 11 • 1 3 

the candle-wick r 

Prud. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon the 
heart, there will be no true light of life in us. 

Matt. Why are the wick, and tallow and all, spent to 
maintain the light of the candle ? 

Prud. To show that body and soul, and all should be 
at the service of, and spend themselves to maintain in good 
condition, that grace of God that is in us. 

Matt. Why doth the pelican pierce her 
ape can ^^^ breast with her bill ? 

Prud. To nourish her young ones with her blood, 
and thereby to show that Christ the blessed so loveth 

240 



THE SIGHTS SHOWN 

His young (His people), as to save them from death by 
His blood. 

Matt. What may one learn by hearing 

^, , ^ 3 •' •' ° Of the cock 

the cock to crow i 

Pnid. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's re- 
pentance. The cock's crowing shows also, that day is 
coming on : let, then, the crowing of the cock put thee in 
mind of that last and terrible day of judgment. 

Now about this time their month was out j wherefore 
they signified to those of the house, that 'twas convenient 
for them to up and be going. Then said Joseph to his 
mother, It is convenient that you forget not to send to the 
house of Mr Interpreter, to pray him to grant that Mr 
Great-heart should be sent unto us, that _. , 

' The weak may 

he may be our conductor the rest or our sometimes caii the 
way. Good boy, said she, I had almost * '■*"*^ o prayers 
forgot. So she drew up a petition, and prayed Mr Watch- 
ful the porter to send it by some fit man to her good friend 
Mr Interpreter j who, when it was come, and he had seen 
the contents of the petition, said to the messenger. Go, tell 
them that I will send him. 

When the family where Christiana was saw that they had 
a purpose to go forward, they called the They provide to be 
whole house together, to give thanks to gone on their way 
their King for sending of them such profitable guests 
as these. Which done, they said to Christiana, And shall 
we not show thee something, according as our custom is 
to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest meditate when 
thou art upon the way ? So they took Christiana, her 
children, and Mercy into the closet, and , 

showed them one of the apples that Eve 
did eat of, and that she also did give to her husband, and 
that for the eating of which they both were turned 
out of paradise, and asked her what she thought that 
was. Then Christiana said, 'Tis food or poison, I 
know not which. So they opened the Asi^htofsinis 
matter to her, and she held up her hands amazu^e 
and wondered. 

241 Q 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then they had her to a place and showed her Jacob's 
ladder. Now at that time there were some 
angels ascending upon it. So Christiana 
looked and looked to see the angels go up ; and so 
did the rest of the company. Then they were going 
into another- place, to show them something else j but 
James said to his mother, Pray bid them stay here a little 
A sight of Christ is longer, for this is a curious sight. So they 
taking tumed again, and stood feeding their eyes 

with this so pleasing a prospect. 

After this they had them into a place where did hang up 

a golden anchor. So they bid Christiana 

a anc or ^^j^^ . j. ^^^^ . £qj.^ g^j j they, You shall have 

it with you, for 'tis of absolute necessity that you should, 
that you may lay hold of that within the veil, and stand 
stedfast in case you should meet with turbulent weather ; 
so they were glad thereof. 

Then they took them, and had them to the mount upon 
Of Abraham's which Abraham our father offered up Isaac 

oflFering up Isaac ^js son, and showed them the altar, the 
wood, the fire, and the knife, for they remain to be seen 
to this very day. When they had seen it, they held up 
their hands, and blessed themselves, and said. Oh ! what a 
man for love to his Master, and for denial to himself, 
was Abraham ! 

After they had showed them all these things. Prudence 
Prndence's ^^^^ them into the dining-room, where 

virginals stood a pair of excellent virginals j ^ so 

she played upon them, and turned what she had showed 
them into this excellent song, saying, 

Eve's apple we have showed you ; 

Of that be you aware : 
You have seen Jacob's ladder too, 

Upon which angels are. 
An anchor you received have; 

But let not these suffice, 
Until with Abra'm you have gave 

Your best a sacrifice. 

1 A musical instrument for young women. 

2 12 



THE PILGRIMS GO ON 

Now about this time one knocked at the door. So the 
Porter opened, and behold, Mr Great- Mr Great-heart 
heart was there : but when he was come <=°™«* *s**« 
in, what joy was there ! For it came now fresh again 
into their minds how but a while ago he had slain old 
Grim Bloody-man, the giant, and had delivered them from 
the lions. 

Then said Mr Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, 
My Lord has sent each of you a bottle of „ . . 

/ , , . i , Hebnngrsatoken 

wme, and also some parched corn, together from his Lord with 

with a couple of pomegranates : He has also "° 

sent the boys some figs and raisins, to refresh you in your way. 

Then they addressed themselves to their journey ; and 
Prudence and Piety went along with them. When they 
came at the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if any of late 
went by. He said. No ; only one some time since, who 
also told me, that of late there had been 
a great robbery committed on the King's ° ^*^ 
highway as you go. But, he saith, the thieves are taken, 
and will shortly be tried for their lives. Then Christiana 
and Mercy were afraid, but Matthew said. Mother, fear 
nothing as long as Mr Great-heart is to go with us, and 
to be our conductor. 

Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am much 
obliged to you for all the kindnesses that 

V. il J • T 1-1 Christiana takes 

you have showed me smce I came hither j her leave of the 
and also for that you have been so loving ^°'^^ 
and kind to my children. I know not how to gratify your 
kindness ; wherefore, pray, as a token of my respects to 
you, accept of this small mite. So she put a gold angel * 
in his hand, and he made her low obeisance, and said. 
Let thy garments be always white; and The Porter's 
let thy head want no ointment. Let blessing 
Mercy live and not die, and let not her works be few. 
And to the boys he said. Do you fly youthful lusts, 

* A gold angel was a coin of the value of ten shillings, and according 
to the comparative value of money in Bunyan's time, equal at least to a 
guinea at the present time. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and follow after godliness with them that are grave 
and wise, so shall you put gladness into your mother's 
heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded. So 
they thanked the Porter, and departed. 

Now I saw in my dream that they went forward until 
they were come to the brow of the hill j where Piety 
bethinking herself, cried out, Alas ! I have forgot what 
I intended to bestow upon Christiana and her companions : 
I will go back and fetch it. So she ran and fetched it. 
While she was gone, Christiana thought she heard in a 
grove a little way off on the right hand, a most curious 
melodious note, with words much like these : 

Through all my life Thy favour is 

So frankly showed to me, 
That in Thy house for evermore 

My dwelling-place shall be. 

And listening still, she thought she heard another answer 
it, saying. 

For why ? The Lord our God is good ; 

His mercy is for ever sure ; 
His truth at all times firmly stood, 

And shall from age to age endure. 

So Christiana asked Prudence what 'twas that made 
those curious notes. They are, said she, our country 
birds: they sing these notes but seldom, except it be 
at the spring, when the flowers appear, and the sun 
shines warm, and then you may hear them all day long. 
I often, said she, go out to hear them ; we also oft- 
times keep them tame in our house. They are very 
fine company for us when we are melancholy : also they 
make the woods, and groves, and solitary places desirous 
to be in. 

By this time Piety was come again. So she said to 
Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee 
somethinVon^ * scheme of all those things that thou hast 

them at parting g^g^ ^j. q^j. [jQuse, upou which thou mayest 
look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call those 
things again to remembrance for thy edification and comfort. 

244, 



VALLEY OF HUMILIATION 

Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley 
of Humiliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was 
slippery j but they were very careful j so they got down 
pretty well. "When they were down in the valley, Piety 
said to Christiana, This is the place where Christian your 
husband met with the foul fiend Apollyon, and where they 
had that dreadful fight that they had : I know you cannot but 
have heard thereof. But be of good courage ; as long as 
you have here Mr Great-heart to be your guide and 
conductor, we hope you will fare the better. So when 
these two had committed the pilgrims unto the conduct of 
their guide, he went forward, and they went after. 

Great. Then said Mr Great-heart, We need not be so 
afraid of this valley, for here is nothing to t h rt t 

hurt us, unless we procure it to ourselves, the VaUey of 
'Tis true Christian did here meet with "^'^i"^""" 
Apollyon, with whom he also had a sore combat : but that 
fray was the fruit of those slips that he got in his going 
down the hill ; for they that get slips there, must look for 
combats here. And hence it is, that this valley has got 
so hard a name. For the common people, when they hear 
that some frightful thing has befallen such a one in such 
a place, are of an opinion that that place is haunted with 
some foul fiend or evil spirit ; when, alas ! it is for the fruit 
of their doing that such things do befall ^^^ ^^^^^„ ^^^ 
them there. This Valley of Humiliation Christian was 
is of itself as fruitful a place as any the 
crow flies over ; and I am persuaded, if we could hit 
upon it, we might find somewhere hereabout something 
that might give us an account why Christian was so hardly 
beset in this place. 

Then James said to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a 
pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon ; 
let us go and see what it is. So they went, and found 
there written. Let Christian's slips before a puiar with an 
he came hither, and the battles that he met inscription on it 
with in this place, be a warning to those that come after. 
Lo, said their guide, did not I tell you that there was some- 

245 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

thing hereabouts that would give intimation of the reason 

why Christian was so hard beset in this place? Then 
turning himself to Christiana, he said, No disparagement 
to Christian more than to many others whose hap and lot 
his was. For 'tis easier going up than down this hill, and 
that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the 
world. But we will leave the good man ; he is at rest ; 
he also had a brave victory over his enemy. Let Him 
grant that dwelleth above that we fare no worse, when 
we come to be tried, than he. 

But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. 
This valley a It is the best and most fruitful piece of 

brave place grouud in all those parts. It is fat ground, 

and, as you see, consisteth much in meadows ; and if a man 
was to come here in the summer-time, as we do now, if he 
knew not any thing before thereof, and if he also delighted 
himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that that 
would be delightful to him. Behold how green this valley 
is ; also how beautified with lilies. I have also known 
many labouring men that have got good estates in this 
jValley of Humiliation j for God resisteth the proud, but 
., ... ... gives more, more grace to the humble. 

ivl6n tnnve in tns ^ ' o 

VaUey of Humiiia- For indeed it is a very fruitful soil, and 
doth bring forth by handfuls. Some also 
have wished that the next way to their Father's house 
were here, that they might be troubled no more with 
either hills or mountains to go over, but the way is the 
way, and there's an end. 

Now as they were going along and talking, they espied 
a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in very 
mean clothes, but of a very fresh and well-favoured counte- 
nance ; and as he sat by himself he sung. Hark, said Mr 
Great-heart, to what the shepherd's boy saith. So they 
hearkened, and he said. 

He that is down needs fear no fallj 

He that is low, no pride: 
He that is humble ever shall 

Have God to be his guide. 
246 




THE SHEPHERD BOY'S SONG 
And as he sat by himself he sunu. 



SHEPHERD'S BOY SINGING 

I am content with what I have, 

Little be it or much ; 
And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 

Because Thou savest such. 

Fulness to such a burden is, 

That go on pilgrimage ; 
Here little, and hereafter bliss, 

Is best from age to age. 

'I'hen said their guide, Do you hear him ? I will dare 
to say that this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of 
that herb called heart's ease in his bosom, than he that is 
clad in silk and velvet. But we will proceed in our 
discourse. 

In this valley our Lord formerly had His country-house : 
He loved much to be here. He loved also Christ when la th« 
to walk these meadows, for He found the flesh had His 

, Ti • 1 I 111 country-house 

air was pleasant. Besides, here a man shall in the Wiiey of 
be free from the noise and from the hurry- H'^'°iii*ti°«^ 
ings of this life : all states are full of noise and confusion j 
only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary 
place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his 
contemplation as in other places he is apt to be. This is a 
valley that nobody walks in but those that love a pilgrim's 
life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet here 
with Apollyon, and to enter with him a brisk encounter, 
yet I must tell you, that in former times men have met with 
angels here, have found pearls here, and have in this place 
found the words of life. 

Did I say our Lord had here in former days His country- 
house, and that He loved here to walk? I will add; — in 
this place, and to the people that love and trace these 
grounds. He has left a yearly revenue, to be faithfully 
paid them at certain seasons, for their maintenance by the 
way, and for their further encouragement to go on in their 
pilgrimage. 

Sam. Now as they went on, Samuel said to Mr Great- 
heart, Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father and 
Apollyon had their battle ; but whereabout was the fight ? 
for I perceive this valley is large. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Great. Your father had'that battle with Apollyon at a 
w=> .i^ . ^ place yonder before us, in a narrow passage. 

Forgetful Green •^i'' jt- riV>. aj'jj 

just beyond horgetrul Green. And indeed 

that place is the most dangerous place in all these parts. For 
if at any time the pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when 
they forget what favours they have received, and how un- 
worthy they are of them. This was the place also where 
others have been hard put to it. But more of the place 
when we are come to it ; for I persuade myself, that to 
this day there remains either some sign of the battle or 
some monument to testify that such a battle there was 
fought. 

Mer. Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this 
Humility a sweet valley as I have been anywhere else in all 
*^''"* our journey ; the place, methinks, suits 

with my spirit. I love to be in such places, where there 
is no rattling with coaches, nor rumbling with wheels. 
Methinks, here one may, without much molestation, 
be thinking what he is, whence he came, what he has 
done, and to what the King has called him. Here one 
may think, and break at heart, and melt in one's spirit, 
until one's eyes become as the fishpools of Heshbon. 
They that go rightly through this Valley of Baca, 
make it a well ; the rain that God sends down from 
heaven upon them that are here, also filleth the pools. 
This valley is that from whence also the King will 
give to His their vineyards, and they that go through 
it shall sing, as Christian did for all he met with 
Apollyon. 

Great. 'Tis true, said their guide ; I have gone through 
An experiment this Valley many a time, and never was 

°'** better than when here. I have also been 

a conduct to several pilgrims, and they have confessed 
the same. To this man will I look, saith the King, 
even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and 
trembleth at My word. 

Now they were come to the place where the afore- 
mentioned battle was fought. Then said the guide to 

248 



I 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 

Christiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the place ; on 
this ground Christian stood, and up there 
came Apollyon against him. And, look, chriftk^*Md?he 
did not I tell you, here is some of your fiend did fight, 
husband's blood upon these stones to this battie^^ain 
day. Behold, also, how here and there are 
yet to be seen upon the place some of the shivers of 
ApoUyon's broken darts. See also how they did beat the 
ground with their feet as they fought, to make good their 
places against each other ; how also with their by-blows 
they did split the very stones in pieces. Verily, Christian 
did here play the man, and showed himself as stout as 
could, had he been here, even Hercules himself. When 
Apollyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, 
that is called the Valley of the Shadow of Death, unto 
which we shall come anon. Lo, yonder also stands a 
monument on which is engraven this a monument of 
battle and Christian's victory, to his fame Christians victory 
throughout all ages. So because it stood just on the way- 
side before them, they stepped to it, and read the writing, 
which word for word was this : 

Hard by here was a battle fought, 

Most strange, and yet most true ; 
Christian and Apollyon sought 

Each other to subdue. 

The man so bravely played the man, 

He made the fiend to fly ; 
Of which a monument I stand. 

The same to testify. 

"When they had passed by this place, they came upon the 
borders of the Shadow of Death, and this valley was longer 
than the other; a place also most strangely haunted with evil 
things, as many are able to testify : but these women and 
children went the better through it, because they had day- 
light, and because Mr Great-heart was their conductor. 

When they were entered upon this valley, they 
thought that they heard a groaning as ^ . . - 

r F 1 " . Groaningrs heard 

or dead men ; a very great groanmg. 

They thought also they did hear words of lamentation, 

2^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

spoken as of some In extreme torment. These things 
made the boys to quake : the women also looked pale 
and wan j but their guide bid them be of good comfort. 

So they went on a little further, and they thought that 
The rroiind ^^^7 ^^^^ ^^^ ground begin to shake under 

shakes them, as if some hollow place was there : 

they heard also a kind of hissing, as of serpents, but no- 
thing as yet appeared. Then said the boys. Are we not yet 
at the end of this doleful place .'' But the guide also bid 
them be of good courage, and look well to their feet ; lest 
haply, said he, you be taken in some snare. 

Now James began to be sick ; but I think the cause 
James sick with thereof was fear : so his mother gave him 
'**'^ some of that glass of spirits that she had 

given her at the Interpreter's house, and three of the pills 
that Mr Skill had prepared, and the boy began to revive. 
Thus they went on till they came to about the middle of 
the valley ; and then Christiana said, Methinks I see some- 
_, - ^ thing yonder upon the road before us, a 

The fiend appears i • r i i t i 

thmg or a shape such as 1 have not seen. 
Then said Joseph, Mother, what is it ? An ugly thing, 
child ; an ugly thing, said she. But, mother, what is it 
The pilgrims are like.'' Said he. 'Tis like I cannot tell 
*'''*"* what, said she ; and now, it was but a little 

way off. Then said she. It is nigh. 

Well, well, said Mr Great-heart, let them that are most 
Great-hearten- afraid keep close to me. So the fiend 
courages them came on, and the conductor met it ; but 

when it was just come to him, it vanished to all their 
sights. Then remembered they what had been said some 
time ago, Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. 

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed. 
But they had not gone far before Mercy, looking behind her, 
saw, as she thought, something most like a 
lion, and it came a great padding pace 
after ; and it had a hollow voice of roaring ; and at every 
roar that it gave, it made all the valley echo, and all their 
hearts to ache, save the heart of him that was their 

2JQ 



IN THE VALLEY 

guide. So it came up, and Mr Great-heart went behin3, 

and put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also 
came on apace, and Mr Great-heart addressed himself to 
give him battle. But when he saw that it was determined 
that resistance should be made, he also drew back, and 
came no further. 

Then they went on again, and their conductor did go 
before them, till they came at a place where was cast up a 
pit the whole breadth of the way ; and x pit and 
before they could be prepared to go over darkness 
that, a great mist and a darkness fell upon them, so that 
they could not see. Then said the pilgrims, Alas ! now 
what shall we do ? But their guide made answer. Fear 
not, stand still, and see what an end will be put to this 
also : so they stayed there, because their path was marred. 
They then also thought that they did hear more apparently 
the noise and rushing of the enemies ; the fire also, and 
the smoke of the pit, were much easier to be discerned. 
Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see Christiana now 
what my poor husband went through. I knows wJiat h«5r 

. , ■' , 1 r 1 • 1 1. T husband felt 

have heard much or this place, but 1 never 
was here afore now. Poor man ! he went here all alone 
in the night ; he had night almost quite through the way; 
also these fiends were busy about him, as if they would 
have torn him in pieces. Many have spoke of it ; but 
none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death 
should mean until they come in it themselves. The heart 
knows its own bitterness j and a stranger intermeddleth 
not with its joy. To be here is a fearful thing. 

Great. This is like doing business in great waters, or 
like going down into the deep. This is like being in 
the heart of the sea, and like going ^ , , . 

•, ,1 r 1 " , '^ Great-heart s reply 

down to the bottoms or the mountains. 
Now it seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about 
us for ever. But let them that walk in darkness and 
have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, and 
stay upon their God. For my part, as I have told 
you already, I have gone often through this valley, 

251 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and have been much harder put to it than now I am : and 
yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am 
not mine own saviour j but I trust we shall have a good 
deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to Him that can 
lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke not only these, 
but all the satans in hell. 

So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and 
deliverance, for there was now no let in 

^ their way : no, not there, where but now 

they were stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got 

through the valley. So they went on still, and beheld great 

^, . . stinks and loathsome smells, to the great 

Mercy to Christiana r i »-r<i • i n /r 

annoyance or them. 1 hen said Mercy to 
Christiana, There is not such pleasant being here as at the 
gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the house where we lay last. 

Oh, but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go 
One of the through here as it is to abide here always ; 

boys reply and for aught I know, one reason why we 

must go this way to the house prepared for us is, that 
our home might be made the sweeter to us. 

Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide ; thou hast now 
spoke like a man. Why, if ever I get out here again, 
said the boy, I think I shall prize light and good way better 
than ever I did in all my life. Then said the guide. We 
shall be out by and by. 

So on they went, and Joseph said. Cannot we see to the 
end of this valley as yet "i Then said the guide, Look to 
your feet, for you shall presently be among the snares : so 
they looked to their feet, and went on ; but they were 
troubled much with the snares. Now when they were 
come among the snares, they espied a man cast into the 
ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. 
„ ., ... Then said the guide. That is one Heedless, 
and Take-heed that was agoiug this way : he has lain there 

preserve ^ great while. There was one Take-heed 

with him when he was taken and slain ; but he escaped 
their hands. You cannot imagine how many are killed 
hereabout, and yet men are so foolishly venturous as to 

212 



GIANT MAUL 

set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come without a guide. 
Poor Christian ! It was a wonder that he here escaped ; 
but he was beloved of his God : also he had a good heart 
of his own, or else he could never a done it. 

Now they drew towards the end of the way j and just 
there where Christian had seen the cave when he went by, 
out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This j^^^^ ^ .^^^ j^^ 
Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with quarrels with ' 
sophistry j and he called Great-heart by his 
name, and said unto him. How many times have you been 
forbidden to do these things ? Then said Mr Great-heart, 
"What things ? What things ! quoth the giant j you know 
what things : but I will put an end to your trade. 

But pray, said Mr Great-heart, before we fall to it, let 
us understand wherefore we must fight. Now the women 
and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do. 
Quoth the giant. You rob the country, and rob it with the 
worst of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr Great- 
heart ; come to particulars, man. 

Then said the giant. Thou practisest the craft of a kid- 
napper; thou gatherest up women and God's ministers 
children, and carriest them into a strange counted as 
country, to the weakening of my master's ^pper 

kingdom. But now Great-heart replied, I am a servant of 
the God of heaven ; my business is to persuade sinners to 
repentance. I am commanded to do my endeavour to turn 
men, women, and children, from darkness to light, and 

from the power of Satan to God : and if _, . ^ . 

,.,.r,, jri 1 ^"'^ s^^"** ^"'i 

this be indeed the ground or thy quarrel, Mr Great-heart 

let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt. """^ ^ 

Then the giant came up, and Mr Great-heart went to 

meet him ; and as he went he drew his sword, but the 

giant had a club. So without more ado they fell to it, 

and at the first blow the giant struck Mr 

Great-heart down upon one of his knees. ^ayMf°d^^iome 

With that the women and children cried, tirnes help strong 

lOilcs cries 

So Mr Great-heart recovering himself, 

laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave the giant 

25i 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

a wound in his arm. Thus he fought for the space of an 
hour, to that height of heat, that the breath came out of the 
giant's nostrils as the heat doth out of a boiling cauldron. 

Then they sat down to rest themj but Mr Great-heart 
betook him to prayer. Also the women and children 
did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle 
did last. 

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both 
fell to it again, and Mr Great-heart, with a full blow, fetched 
The eiant ^^e giant down to the ground. Nay, hold, 

struci down jgt me rccover, quoth he. So Mr Great- 

heart fairly let him get up, so to it they went again ; and 
the giant missed but little of all to breaking Mr Great- 
heart's skull with his club. 

Mr Great-heart seeing that, runs to him in the full heat 
of his spirit, and pierced him under the fifth rib. With 
He is slain ^^^^ ^^^ giant began to faint, and could 

and his head hold Up his club no longer. Then Mr 

'^^°*^ ° Great-heart seconded his blow, and smote 

the head of the giant from his shoulders. Then the women 
and children rejoiced, and Mr Great-heart also praised God 
for the deliverance he had wrought. 

When this was done, they amongst them erected a pillar, 
and fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote under- 
neath in letters that passengers might read : 

He that did wear this head was one 

That pilgrims did misuse: 
He stopt their way, he spared none, 

But did them all abuse: 
Until that I Great-heart arose, 

The pilgrims' guide to be; 
Until that I did him oppose. 

That was their enemy. 

Now I saw that they went to the ascent that was a 
little way off cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims. That 
was the place from whence Christian had the first sight of 
Faithful his brother. Wherefore, here they sat down and 
rested. They also here did eat and drink, and make merry, 
for that they had gotten deliverance from this so dangerous 

254 




DEATH OF GIANT MAUL 

With that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his club no 

longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow, and 

smote the head of the giant from Ma shoulders. 



PILGRIMS AND OLD HONEST 

an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked 
the guide if he had caught no hurt in the battle. Then 
said Mr Great -heart, No, save a little on my flesh ; yet that 
also shall be so far from being to my detriment, that it is 
at present a proof of my love to my Master and you, and 
shall be a means, by grace, to increase my reward at last. 

Chr. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you saw 
him come with his club .'' 

Great. It is my duty, said he, to distrust mine own 
ability, that I may have reliance on Him Discourse of 
that is stronger than all. **»« ^e^' 

Chr. But what did you think when he fetched you 
down to the ground at the first blow .'' 

Great. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Master 
Himself was served, and yet He it was that conquered at 
last. 

Matt. "When you all have thought what you please, I 
think God has been wonderful good unto Matthew here 
us, both in bringing us out of this valley, admires God's 
and in delivering us out of the hand of this ^°° 
enemy. For my part, I see no reason why we should dis- 
trust our God any more, since He has now, and in such a 
place as this, given us such testimony of His love as this. 
Then they got up and went forward. 

Now a little before them stood an oak, and under it, 
when they came to it, they found an old ^, . „ 

•1 • r 1 -T-L I 11 Old Honest 

pilgrim rast asleep. Ihey knew that he asleep under 
was a pilgrim, by his clothes, and his staff, ^° 
and his girdle. 

So the guide, Mr Great-heart, awaked him; and the 
old gentleman, as he lift up his eyes, cried out. What's 
the matter ? who are you ? and what is your business here ? 

Great. Come, man, be not so hot ; here are none but 
friends. Yet the old man gets up, and „ 

J , . , 1 .11 . r One saint some- 

Stands upon his guard, and will know or times takes another 

them what they were. Then said the f°'^'=««'°y 
guide. My name is Great-heart : I am the guide of these 
pilgrims, which are going to the Celestial Country. 

255 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Hon. Then said Mr Honest, I cry you mercy : I feared 
Taikbetwe *^^' ^^^ ^^^ been of the company of those 

Great-heart that some time ago did rob Little-faith of 

" * his money ; but, now I look better about 

me, I perceive you are honester people. 

Great. Why, what would or could you a done to a 
helped yourself, if indeed we had been of that company? 

Hon. Done ? why, I would have fought as long as 
breath had been in me ; and had I so done, I am sure you 
could never have given me the worst on't ; for a Christian 
can never be overcome unless he shall yield of himself. 

Great. Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide ; for 
by this I know that thou art a cock of the right kind, for 
thou hast said the truth. 

Hon. And by this also I know that thou knowest what 
true pilgrimage is ; for all others do think that we are the 
soonest overcome of any. 

Great. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let me 
crave your name, and the name of the place you came 
from. 

Hon. My name I cannot, but I came from the town 
Whence Mr of Stupidity •, it lieth about four degrees 

Honest came beyond the City of Destruction. 

Great. Oh ! are you that countryman then ? I deem 
I have half a guess of you 5 your name is old Honesty, is 
it not ? 

Hon. So the old gentleman blushed, and said. Not 
Honesty in the abstract, but Honest is my name j and I 
wish that my nature shall agree to what I am called. But, 
sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess that I am 
such a man, since I came from such a place ? 

Great. I had heard of you before by my Master, for 
He knows all things that are done on the earth. But I have 
„. ., . often wondered that any should come from 

Stupified ones are i r • u 

worse than those your place; for your town is worse than 
Biereiy carnal .^ ^^^ ^j^^ ^f Destruction itself. 

Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are 
more cold and senseless. But were a man in a mountain 

256 



I 



OLD HONEST'S BLESSING 

of ice, yet if the Sun of righteousness will arise upon 
him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw j and thus it hath 
been with me. 

Great. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it ; for I 
know the thing is true. 

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a 
holy kiss of charity, and asked them their names, and how 
they had fared since they set out on their pilgrimage. 

Chr. Then said Christiana, My name I suppose you 
have heard of; good Christian was my husband, and these 
four were his children. But can you think old Honest and 
how the old gentleman was taken when she Christiana talk 
old him who she was ? He skipped, he smiled, and 
blessed them with a thousand good wishes, saying : 

Hon. I have heard much of your husband, and of his 
travels and wars which he underwent in He also talks 
his days. Be it spoken to your comfort, ^'*^^ ^^^ ^°y^ 
the name of your husband rings all over these parts of 
the world : his faith, his courage, his enduring, and his 
sincerity under all, have made his name famous. Then 
he turned him to the boys, and asked them of their names, 
which they told him. And then said he unto them, 
Matthew, be thou Uke Matthew the publican, not in vice, 
but virtue. Samuel, said he, be thou like oid Mr Honest 
Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and blessing on them 
prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's 
house, chaste and one that flees from temptation. And, 
James, be thou like James the just, and like James the 
brother of our Lord. Then they, told him of Mercy, and how 
she had left her town and her kindred to come along with 
Christiana, and with her sons. At that the old honest man 
said, Mercy is thy name: by mercy shalt Hebiesseth 
thou be sustained and carried through all Mercy 
those difficulties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou 
shalt come thither where thou shalt look the Fountain of 
mercy in the face with comfort. All this while the guide 
Mr Great-heart was very much pleased, and smiled upon 
his companion. 

257 R 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Now, as they walked along together the guide asked the 
Talk of one Mr old gentleman, if he did not know one 
Fearing ^j. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out 

of his parts. 

Hon. Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had 
the root of the matter in him : but he was one of the most 
troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days. 

Great. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a 
very right character of him. 

Hon. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his ; I 
was with him most an end ; when he first began to think 
of what would come upon us hereafter, I was with him* 

Great. I was his guide from my Master's house to the 
gates of the Celestial City. 

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. 

Great. I did so ; but I could very well bear it ; for men 
of my calling are oftentimes intrusted with the conduct of 
such as he was. 

Hon. "Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, and 
how he managed himself under your conduct. 

Great. Why, he was always afraid that he should come 
MrFearin 's short of whither he had a desire to go. 

troublesome Everything frightened him that he heard 

p gnmage anybody speak of, that had but the least 

appearance of opposition in it. I heard that he lay roar- 
„. . . . . insr at the Slough of Despond for above 

His behaviour at <=> " i i r 1 1 i 

the Slough of a mouth together : nor durst he, for all he 

Despond i t. r >. • 

saw several go over before rum, venture, 
though they many of them offered to lend him their hand. 
He would not go back again neither. The Celestial City, 
— he said he should die if he came not to it ; and yet was 
dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw 
that anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at 
the Slough of Despond a great while, as I have told you, 
one sunshiny morning, I do not know how, he ventured, 
and so got over j but when he was over, he would scarcely 
believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of Despond in his 
mind, a slough that he carried everywhere with him, or 

258 



i 



TALK OF MR FEARING 

else he could never have Deen as he was. So he came up 
to the gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the 
head of this way, and there also he stood His behaviour at 
a good while before he would adventure to ^^^ &**® 
knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back, 
and give place to others, and say that he was not worthy. 
For, for all he got before some to the gate, yet many of 
them went in before him. There the poor man would 
stand shaking and shrinking ; I dare say it would have 
pitied one's heart to have seen him. Nor would he go 
back again. At last he took the hammer that hanged on 
the gate in his hand, and gave a small rap or two ; then 
one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before. He that 
opened, stepped out after him, and said, Thou trembling 
one, what wantest thou ? With that he fell down to the 
ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him so 
faint, so he said to him. Peace be to thee ; up, for I have 
set open the door to thee ; come in, for thou art blessed. 
With that he got up, and went in trembling ; and when he 
was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he 
had been entertained there awhile, as you know how the 
manner is, he was bid go on his way, and also told the way 
he should take. So he came till he came to our house ; 
but as he behaved himself at the gate, so u- . . • .. 

o ' His behaviour at 

he did at my Master the Interpreter s door, the interpreter's 
He lay thereabout in the cold a good while, 
before he would adventure to call ; yet he would not go 
back ; and the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he 
had a note of necessity in his bosom to my Master to receive 
him, and grant him the comfort of his house, and also to 
allow him a stout and valiant conduct, because he was 
himself so chicken-hearted a man ; and yet for all that he 
was afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down 
thereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost starved ; yea, 
so great was his dejection, that though he saw several 
others for knocking get in, yet he was afraid to venture. 
At last, I think I looked out of the window, and perceiv- 
ing a man to be up and down about the door, I went out 

259 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

to him, and asked what he was ', but, poor man, the water 
stood in his eyes •, so I perceived what he wanted. I went 
therefore in, and told it in the house, and we showed the 
thing to our Lord : so He sent me out again, to entreat 
him to come in ; but I dare say, I had hard work to do it. 
How he was en- -^t last he Came in ; and I will say that for 
tertained there my Lord, he Carried it wonderful lovingly 

to him. There were but a few good bits at the table, but 
some of it was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented 
the note ; and my Lord looked thereon, and said his desire 
should be granted. So when he had been there a good while, 
he seemed to get some heart, and to be a little more com- 
He Is a little en- fortable. For my Master, you mustknow, 
couragedatthein- is one of Very tender bowels, especially to 

terpreter's house ^i ^v^ r-j u r l 'j 

them that are arraid ; whererore he carried 
it so towards him, as might tend most to his encourage- 
ment. Well, when he had had a sight of the things of the 
place, and was ready to take his journey to go to the city, 
my Lord, as he did to Christian before, gave him a bottle 
of spirits, and some comfortable things to eat. Thus we 
set forward, and I went before him ; but the man was but 
of few words, only he would sigh aloud. 

When we were come to the place where the three 
He was greatly fellows Were hanged, he said that he 
afraid when he doubted that that would be his end also, 

burchee^ when Only he Seemed glad when he saw the 
he saw the cross Q^^^^ ^^^ ^j^^ Sepulchre. There I confess 
he desired to stay a little to look ; and he seemed for a 
while after to be a little cheery. When he came at the 
Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much 
fear the lions : for you must know that his trouble was 
not about such things as those ; his fear was about his 
acceptance at last. 

I got him in at the house Beautiful, I think before he was 
willing. Also when he was in, I brought him acquainted 
Dumpish at the with the damsels that were of the place; 
house Beautiful but he was ashamed to make himself much 
for company. He desired much to be alone j yet he 

260 



i 



TALK OF MR FEARING 

always loved good talk, and often would get behind the 
screen to hear h. He also loved much to see ancient 
things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He told 
me afterwards, that he loved to be in those two houses 
from which he came last, to wit, at the gate, and that of 
the Interpreter, but that he durst not be so bold to ask. 

When we went also from the house Beautiful, down 
the hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he He went down 
went down as well as ever I saw a man in '°<^o> and was very 

_ . , , pleasant in the 

my lire J for he cared not how mean he VaUey of HumUia- 
was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, 
I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that valley 
and him ; for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage 
than when he was in that valley. 

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss 
the very flowers that grew in this valley. He would now 
be up every morning by break of day, tracing and walking 
to and fro in this valley. 

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death, I thought I should 
have lost my man: not for that he had iSeOly"? 
any inclination to go back ; that he always ^^ Shadow of 
abhorred; but he was ready to die for 
fear. Oh, the hobgoblins will have me ! the hobgoblins 
will have me ! cried he j and I could not beat him out on't. 
He made such a noise, and such an outcry here, that had 
they but heard him, 'twas enough to encourage them to 
come and fall upon us. 

But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was 
as quiet when he went through it, as ever I knew it 
before or since. I suppose those enemies here had now 
a special check from oar Lord, and a command not to 
meddle until Mr Fearing was passed over it. 

It would be too tedious to tell you of all : we will 
therefore only mention a passage or two more. When 
he was come at Vanity Fair, I thought he His behaviour at 
would have fought with all the men in the Vanity Fair 
fair. I feared there we should both have been knocked 

261 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

on the head, so hot was he against their fooleries. Upon 
the Enchanted Ground he also was very wakeful. But 
when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there 
again he was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he 
should be drowned for ever, and so never see that face 
with comfort, that he had come so many miles to behold. 

And here also I took notice of what was very remarkable; 
— the water of that river was lower at this time than ever 
I saw it in all my life ; so he went over at last, not much 
His boldness at above wetshod. When he was going up 
^*s' to the gate Mr Great-heart began to take 

his leave of him, and to wish him a good reception above. 
So he said, I shall, I shall. Then parted we asunder, and I 
saw him no more. 

Hon. Then it seems he was well at last ? 

Great. Yes, yes, I never had a doubt about him. He was 
a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept very low, 
and thatmadehislifesoburdensometohimself,andsotrouble- 
some to others. He was, above many, tender of sin : he was 
so afraid of doing injuries to others, that he often would deny 
himself of that which was lawful, because he would not offend. 

Hon. But what should be the reason that such a good 
man should be all his days so much in the dark ? 

Great. There are two sorts of reasons for it. One 
Reasonwhygood '^^' ^^^ ^^^e God wijl have it SO : some 
men are so in the must pipe, and some must weep. Now 
Mr Fearing was one that played upon 
this bass. He and his fellows sound the sackbut, whose 
notes are more doleful than the notes of other music are : 
though indeed some say, the bass is the ground of music. 
And for my part, I care not at all for that profession that 
begins not in heaviness of mind. The first string that the 
musician usually touches, is the bass, when he intends to 
put all in tune. God also plays upon this string first, when 
He sets the soul in tune for Himself. Only here was the 
imperfection of Mr Fearing ; he could play upon no other 
music but this, till towards his latter end. 

I make bold to talk thus metaphorically for the ripening 
262 



I 




GREAT-HEART CONDUCTING MR FEARING THROUGH THE 

VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATK 

"I thought I should have lost my man. — He was ready 

to die for fear." 



TALK OF MR FEARING 

of the wits of young readers, and because in the Book of 
the Revelation, the saved are compared to a company of 
musicians, that play upon their trumpets and harps, and 
sing their songs before the throne. 

Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by 
the relation you have given of him. Difficulties, lions, 
or Vanity Fair, he feared not at all ; 'twas only sin, death, 
and hell, that were to him a terror, because he had some 
doubts about his interest in that celestial country 

Great. You say right ; those were the things that 
were his troublers : and they, as you have 

, , T_ J r 1 1 A close about hiia 

well observed, arose rrom the weakness 
of his mind thereabout, not from weakness of spirit as to 
the practical part of a pilgrim's life. I dare believe that, 
as the proverb is, he could have bit a firebrand, had it 
stood in his way j but the things with which he was 
oppressed, no man ever yet could shake off with ease. 

Chr. Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr Fearing 
has done me good : I thought nobody had Christiana's sen- 
been like me. But I see there was some *«°<=* 
semblance 'twixt this good man and I : only we differed 
in two things. His troubles were so great, they broke 
out ; but mine I kept within. His also lay so hard upon 
him, they made him that he could not knock at the houses 
provided for entertainment ; but my trouble was always 
such as made me knock the louder. 

Mer. If I might also speak my heart, I must say that 
something of him has also dwelt in me. ., , > 

r-, T 1 1 r • 1 r 1 Mercy s sentenca 

ror 1 have ever been more arraid or the » 

lake, and the loss of a place in paradise, than I have been 
of the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, may I have the 
happiness to have a habitation there ! 'Tis enough, though 
I part with all the world to win it. 

Matt. Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that 
made me think that I was far from having Matthew's sen- 
that within me that accompanies salvation. t«°<=* 
But if it was so with such a good man as he, why may it 
not also go well with me ? 

263 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

James. No fears, no grace, said James. Though there 
is not always grace where there is the fear 

James s sentence r l 1 1 1 ^ i. ^t 

or hell, yet to be sure there is no grace 
■where there is no fear of God. 

Great. "Well said, James, thou hast hit the mark. For 
the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ; and to be 
sure they that want the beginning have neither middle nor 
end. But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr 
Fearing, after we have sent after him this farewell. 

Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear 

Thy God, and wast afraid 
Of doing any thing, while here, 
Their farewell That would have thee betrayed, 

about him And didst thou fear the lake and pit? 

Would others do so too I 
For, as for them that want thy wit, 
They do themselves undo. 

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk. For after 
Mr Great-heart had made an end with Mr Fearing, Mr Honest 
began to tell them of another, but his name was Mr Self-will. 
^, .. „ . He pretended himself to be a pilgrim, said 

Of Mr Self-will t\/t tt l t j i r l 

Mr Honest 5 but 1 persuade myselr he never 
came in at the gate that stands at the head of the way. 

Great. Had you ever any talk with him about it? 

Hon. Yes, more than once or twice ; but he would 
Old Honest had always be like himself, self-willed. He 
talked with him neither Cared for man, nor argument, nor 
yet example ; what his mind prompted him to, that he 
would do, and nothing else could he be got to. 

Great. Fray what principles did he hold ? for I suppose 
you can tell. 

Hon. He held, that a man might follow the vices as 
c, ,, .... .. well as the virtues of the pilgrims: and that 

Self-will s opmions .r, 1.11 it 1 ^ 1 i • ^ j 

ir he did both, he should be certainly saved. 
Great. How ? If he had said, 'tis possible for the 
best to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake of the 
virtues of pilgrims, he could not much have been blamed ; 
for indeed we are exempted from no vice absolutely, but 
on condition that we watch and strive. But this I perceive 

264 



TALK OF SELF-WILL 

is not the thing ; but if I understand you right, your 
meaning is, that he was of that opinion, that it was allow- 
able so to be. 

Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed and 
practised. 

Great. But what grounds had he for his so saying ? 

Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his warrant. 

Great. Prithee, Mr Honest, present us with a few 
particulars. 

Hon. So I will. He said, to have to do with other 
men's wives had been practised by David, God's beloved, 
and therefore he could do it. He said, to have more 
women than one was a thing that Solomon practised, and 
therefore he could do it. He said, that Sarah and the godly 
midwives of Egypt lied, and so did saved Rahab, and 
therefore he could do it. He said, that the disciples went 
at the bidding of their Master, and took away the owner's 
ass, and therefore he could do so too. He said, that 
Jacob got the inheritance of his father in a way of guile 
and dissimulation, and therefore he could do so too. 

Great. High base indeed ! And are you sure he was 
of this opinion ? 

Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture 
for it, bring argument for it, etc. 

Great. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allow- 
ance in the world ! 

Hon. You must understand me rightly : he did not say 
that any man might do this ; but that those that had the 
virtues of those that did such things, might also do the same. 

Great. But what more false than such a conclusion ? 
For this is as much as to say, that because good men here- 
tofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had allowance 
to do it of a presumptuous mind: or if, because a child, 
by the blast of the wind, or for that it stumbled at a stone, 
fell down and so defiled itself in mire, therefore he might 
wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who 
could a thought that any one could so far a been 
blinded by the power of lust ? But what is written must 
be true } — they stumble at the word, being disobedient, 



THE PILGRIM^S PROGRESS 

whereunto also they were appointed. His supposing that 
such may have the godly men's virtues, who addict them- 
selves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong as the other. 
'Tis just as if the dog should say, I have, or may have, the 
qualities of the child, because I lick up its stinking 
excrements. To eat up the sin of God's people Is no sign 
of one that is possessed with their virtues. Nor can I 
believe that one that is of this opinion, can at present have 
faith or love in him. But I know you have made strong 
objections against him; prithee what can he say for himself.'* 

Hon. Why, he says, to do this by way of opinion 
seems abundantly more honest than to do it, and yet hold 
contrary to it in opinion. 

Great. A very wicked answer. For though to let 
loose the bridle to lusts, while our opinions are against such 
things, is bad j yet to sin, and plead a toleration so to do, 
is worse : the one stumbles beholders accidentally, the other 
pleads them into the snare. 

Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that have 
not this man's mouth ; and that makes going on pilgrimage 
of so little esteem as it is. 

Great. You have said the truth, and it is to be 
lamented : but he that feareth the ICing of paradise shall 
come out of them all. 

Chr. There are strange opinions in the world. I know 
one that said, 'twas time enough to repent when they came 
to die. 

Great. Such are not over-wise; that man would a 
been loth, might he have had a week to run twenty miles in 
for his life, to have deferred that journey to the last hour 
of that week. 

Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them 
that count themselves pilgrims do indeed do thus. I am, 
as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller In this 
road many a day ; and I have taken notice of many things. 

I have seen some that have set out as if they would 
drive all the world afore them, who yet have in few 
days died as they in the wilderness, and so never got 

266, 



THE HOUSE OF GAIUS 

sight of the promised land. I have seen some that have 
promised nothing at first setting out to be pilgrims, and 
that one would a thought could not have lived a daj^ 
that have yet proved very good pilgrims. I have seen 
some that have run hastily forward, that again have, after 
a little time, run as fast just back again. I have seen 
some who have spoken very well of a pilgrim's life at 
first, that after a while have spoken as much against it. 
I have heard some, when they first set out for paradise, 
say positively there is such a place, who, when they have 
been almost there, have come back again, and said there 
is none. I have heard some vaunt what they would do in 
case they should be opposed, that have, even at a false 
alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all. 

Now as they were thus on their way, there came one 
running to meet them, and said, Gentle- Fresh news of 
men, and you of the weaker sort, if you trouble 
love life, shift for yourselves, for the robbers are before you. 

Great. Then said Mr Great-heart, They be the three 
that set upon Little-Faith heretofore. Well, said he, we 
are ready for them : so they went on Great-heart's 
their way. Now they looked at every resolution 
turning when they should a met with the villains ; but 
whether they heard of Mr Great-heart, or whether they 
had some other game, they came not up to the pilgrims. 

Christiana then wished for an inn for herself and her 
children, because they were weary. Then christianawisheth 
said Mr Honest, There is one a little for an inn 
before us, where a very honourable disciple, one Gains, 
dwells. So they all concluded to turn in . 
thither ; and the rather, because the old 
gentleman gave him so good a report. So when they came 
to the door, they went in, not knocking. They enter into 
for folks use not to knock at the door of ^'^^ '>°'*^® 
an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, 
and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie 
there that night. 

Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men j for my 

2(5/ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

house is for none but pilgrims. Then were Christiana, 
Gaius entertains Mercy, and the boys, the more glad,_ for 
them, and how that the innkeeper was a lover of pilgrims. 

So they called for rooms, and he showed them one for 
Christiana and her children and Mercy, and another for 
Mr Great-heart and the old gentleman. 

Great. Then said Mr Great-heart, Good Gaius, what 
hast thou for supper .'' for these pilgrims have come far 
to-day, and are weary. 

Gaius. It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently 
go out to seek food ; but such as we have you shall be 
welcome to, if that will content. 

Great. We will be content with what thou hast in the 
house ; for as much as I have proved thee, thou art never 
destitute of that which is convenient. 

Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose name 
was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready 

Gaius's cook ^ • i • t" l • j 

supper tor so many pilgrims. 1 his done, 
he came up again, saying, Come, my good friends, you are 
welcome to me, and I am glad that I have a house to 
entertain you ; and while supper is making ready, if you 
please, let us entertain one another with some good dis- 
course ; so they all said, Content. 

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged 
Talk between matron ? and whose daughter is this young 

guests. damsel ? 

Great. The woman is the wifeof one Christian, a pilgrim 
of former times j and these are his four children. The maid 
is one of her acquaintance, one that she hath persuaded to 
come with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their 
father, and covet to tread in his steps ; yea, 
if they do but see any place where the old 
pilgrim hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth joy 
to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in the same. 

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife, and 
Of Christian's an- ^^^ these Christian's children.? I knew 
"stors. your husband's father, yea, also his father's 

father. Many have been good of this stock j their ancestors 

268^ 



AT GAIUS'S HOUSE 

dwelt first at Antioch. Christian's progenitors (I suppose 
you have heard your husband talk of them) were very 
worthy men. They have, above any that I know, 
showed themselves men of great virtue and courage, for 
the Lord of the pilgrims. His ways, and them that loved 
Him. I have heard of many of your husband's relations 
that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. Stephen, 
that was one of the first of the family from whence your 
husband sprang, was knocked on the head with stones. 
James, another of this generation, was slain with the 
edge of the sword. To say nothing of Paul and Peter, 
men anciently of the family from whence your husband 
came, there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions ; 
Romanus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones ; 
and Polycarp, that played the man in the fire. There 
was he that was hanged up in a basket in the sun for 
the wasps to eat ; and he whom they put into a sack, 
and cast him into the sea to be drowned. 'Twould be im- 
possible utterly to count up all of that family that have 
suffered injuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's life. 
Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband has left 
behind him four such boys as these. I hope they will 
bear up their father's name, and tread in their father's steps, 
and come to their father's end. 

Great. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads ; they seem to 
choose heartily their father's ways. 

Gaius. That is it that I said. Wherefore Christian's 
family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the 
ground, and yet to be numerous upon the Advice to Christ- 
face of the earth ; wherefore let Christiana Jana about her 
look out some damsels for her sons, to °^^' 
whom they may be betrothed, etc., that the name of their 
father, and the house of his progenitors, may never be 
forgotten in the world. 

Hon. 'Tis pity this family should fall and be extinct. 

Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may ; but 
let Christiana take my advice, and that's the way to up- 
hold it. And, Christiana, said this inn-keeper, I am glad 

269 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a lovely 
couple. And may I advise, take Mercy into a nearer 
relation to thee : if she will, let her be given to Matthew 
thy eldest son. 'Tis the way to preserve a posterity in 
Mercy and ^he earth. So this match was concluded, 

Matthew marry and in proccss of time they were married : 
but more of that hereafter. 

Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on 
the behalf of women, to take away their reproach. For 
as death and the curse came into the world by a woman, 
Gen. iii., so also did life and health : God sent forth His 
Son, made of a woman. Yea, to show how much those 
that came after did abhor the act of their 
old so^uch'de- mother, this sex in the Old Testament 
sired chUdrea coveted children, if happily this or that 

woman might be the mother of the Saviour of the world. 
I will say again, that when the Saviour was come, women 
rejoiced in Him, before either man or angel. I read not 
that ever any man did give unto Christ so much as one 
groat ; but the women followed Him, and ministered to 
Him of their substance. 'Twas a woman that washed 
His feet with tears, and a woman that anointed His 
body to the burial. They were women that wept when 
He was going to the cross, and women that followed 
Him from the cross, and that sat by His sepulchre, 
when He was buried. They were women that were 
first with Him at His resurrection-morn, and women that 
brought tidings first to His disciples that He was risen 
from the dead. Women therefore are highly favoured, 
and show by these things, that they are sharers with us in 
the grace of life. 

Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was 

almost ready, and sent one to lay the 

Supper ready ^^^^^^ ^^^ trenchers, and to set the salt 

and bread in order. 

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of 
this forerunner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater 
appetite to my food than I had before. 

270 



THE SUPPER 

Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee in 
this life beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the supper 
of the great King in His kingdom ; for all preaching, 
books, and ordinances here, are but as the „„ , , . 

, . r t 1 t • r what to be 

laymg or the trenchers, and as settmg or ptheredfrom 
salt upon the board, when compared with with the cioth°**^ 
the feast that our Lord will make for us and trenchers 
when we come to His house. 

So supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder and a 
wave-breast were set on the table before them ; to show 
that they must begin their meal with prayer and praise to 
God. The heave-shoulder David lifted his heart up to 
God with ; and with the wave-breast, where his heart lay, 
with that he used to lean upon his harp when he played. 
These two dishes were very fresh and good, and they all 
ate heartily well thereof. 

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as red 
as blood. So Gaius said to them. Drink freely ; this is the 
juice of the true vine, that makes glad the heart of God 
and man. So they drank and were merry. 

The next was a dish of milk well crumbled ; but Gaius 
said. Let the boys have that, that they 

^, , ■' ' •' A dish of milk 

may grow thereby. 

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and 
honey. Then said Gaius, Eat freely of of honey and 
this, for this is good to cheer up and Butter 
strengthen your judgments and understandings. This 
was our Lord's dish when Lie was a child ; Butter and 
honey shall He eat, that He may know to refuse the evil, 
and choose the good. 

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they 
were very good-tasted fruit. Then said 
Matthew, May we eat apples, since they '^ ° appes 

were such by and with which the serpent beguiled our 
first mother ? 

Then said Gaius; 

Apples were they with which we were beguiled; 

Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled : 

271 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood ; 
To eat such, when commanded, does us good: 
Drink of His flagons then, thou Church, His dove, 
And eat His apples, who art sick of love. 

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I a 
■while since was sick with eating of fruit. 

Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick j but not 
what our Lord has tolerated. 

While they were thus talking, they were presented with 

another dish, and 'twas a dish of nuts. 

Then said some at the table, Nuts spoil 

tender teeth, especially the teeth of thechildren : which 

when Gaius heard, he said : — 

Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), 
Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters ; 
Ope then the shells, and you shall have the meat ; 
They here are brought for you to crack and eat. 

Then were they very merry, and sat at the table a long 
time, talking of many things. Then said the old gentleman. 
My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if 
you please, do you open this riddle: 

A riddle put forth A man there was, though some did count him mad, 
by old Honest The more he cast away, the more he had. 

Then all gave good heed, wondering what good Gaius 
would say ; so he sat still a while, and then thus replied : 

_ . ., He that bestows his goods upon the poor, 

oaius onens it r^i n , i • i . 

'^ Shall have as much again, and ten times more. 

Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did 

Joseph wonders ^ ^, . , " u r j •.. ^ 

not think you could a round it out. 
Oh! said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way a 
great while : nothing teaches like experience. I have 
learned of my Lord to be kind, and have found by ex- 
perience that I have gained thereby. There is that 
scattereth, yet increaseth ; and there is that with- 
holdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. 
There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing ; 
there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great 
riches. 

272 



L 



MR GREAT-HEART'S RIDDLE 

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and 
said. Mother, this is a very good man's house ; let us stay 
here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be married 
here to Mercy, before we go any further. The which 
Gains, the host, overhearing, said. With a very good will, 
my child. So they stayed there more than a month, and 
Mercy was given to Matthew to wife. Matthew and Mercy 
"While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom are married 
was, would be making coats and garments to give to the poor, 
by which she brought up a very good report upon pilgrims. 

But to return again to our story. After supper, the lads 

desired a bed, for that they were weary The boys g-o to bed, 

with travelling. Then Gaius called to the rest sit up 

show them their chamber j but said Mercy, I will have them 

to bed. So she had them to bed, and they slept well : but 

the rest sat up all night ; for Gaius and they were such 

suitable company, that they could not tell how to part. 

Then after much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their 

journey.oldMr Honest, he that put forth ^,^„ , , 

1 • 1 ji 1. ^ J T^i 'J Old Honest nods 

the riddle, began to nod. 1 hen said 

Great-heart, What, sir, you begin to be drowsy ; come, 

rub up, now here's a riddle for you. Then said Mr Honest, 

Let's hear it. Then said Mr Great-heart : 

He that will kill, must first be overcome : . .... 

Who live abroad would, first must die at home. " 

Ha ! said Mr Honest, it is a hard one ; hard to expound, 
and harder to practise. But, come, landlord, said he, I 
will, if you please, leave my part to you ; do you expound 
it, and I will hear what you say. 

No, said Gaius, 'twas put to you, and 'tis expected that 
you should answer it. Then said the old gentleman : 

He first by grace must conquered be. 

That sin would mortify : The riddle 

And who that lives would convince me, opened 

Unto himself must die. 

It is right, said Gaius ; good doctrine and experience teach 
this. For first, until grace displays itself, and overcomes 
the soul with its glory, it is altogether without heart to 

273 S 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan's cords, by which the 
soul lies bound, how should it make resistance before it is 
loosed from that infirmity ? Secondly, Nor will any that 
knows either reason or grace, believe that such a man can 
be a living monument of grace, that is a slave to his own 
corruption. And now it comes in my mind, I will tell you 
A question worth ^ Story Worth the hearing. There were 
the minding j^q men that Went on pilgrimage; the 

one began when he was young, the other when he was old. 
The young man had strong corruptions to grapple with ; 
the old man's were decayed with the decays of nature. 
The young man trod his steps as even as did the old one, 
and was every way as light as he. Who now, or which of 
them, had their graces shining clearest, since both seemed 
to be alike? 

Hon. The young man's, doubtless. For that which 
heads it against the greatest opposi- 

A companson .. . u .. j T ..• ..u Z •.. • 

tion, gives best demonstration that it is 
strongest ; especially when it also holdeth pace with that 
that meets not with half so much, as to be sure old age 
does not. Besides, I have observed that old men have 

blessed themselves with this mistake ; 
*"'^ ® namely, taking the decays of nature for 

a gracious conquest over corruption, and so have been apt 
to beguile themselves. Indeed, old men that are gracious 
are best able to give advice to them that are young, 
because they have seen most of the emptiness of things : 
but yet, for an old and a young man to set out both 
together, the young one has the advantage of the fairest 
discovery of a work of grace within him, though the old 
man's corruptions are naturally the weakest. Thus they 
sat talking till break of day. 

Now when the family were up, Christiana bid her son 

James that he should read a chapter ; so 

er ques ion ^^ Ye2.d the 53rd of Isaiah. When he 

had done, Mr Honest asked why it was said that the 

Saviour is said to come out of a dry ground ; and also that 

He had no form nor comeliness in Him. 

274 




GREAT-HEART AND MR HONEST AT GAIUS'S HOUSE 

' Hai ■' said Mr Honest, " it is a hard one; hard to expound, and 

harder to practise." 



GIANT SLAY-GOOD 

Great. Then said Mr Great-heart, To the first I 
answer, Because the church of the Jews, of which Christ 
came, had then lost almost all the sap and spirit of religion. 
To the second I say, The words are spoken in the person 
of the unbelievers, who, because they want that eye that 
can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of 
Him by the meanness of His outside, just like those that 
know not that precious stones are covered over with a 
homely crust, who, when they have found one, because they 
know not what they have found, cast it away again, as men 
do a common stone. 

Well, said Gains, now you are here, and since, as I 
know, Mr Great-heart is good at his weapons, if you 
please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk 
into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a 
mile from hence there is one Slay-good, a giant, that doth 
much annoy the King's highway in these ^.j^^ siay-good 
parts ; and I know whereabout his haunt assaulted and 
is. He is master of a number of thieves : ^° 
'twould be well if we could clear these parts of him. So 
they consented and went ; Mr Great-heart with his sword, 
helmet, and shield ; and the rest with spears and staves. 

When they came to the place where he was, they 
found him with one Feeble-mind in his 
hands, whom his servants had brought unto wkh^on*" Feebie- 
him, having taken him in the way. Now mind in his 
the giant was rifling of him, with a purpose 
after that to pick his bones ; for he was of the nature of 
flesh-eaters. 

Well, so soon as he saw Mr Great-heart and his friends 
at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, he demanded 
what they wanted. 

Great. We want thee ; for we are come to revenge 
the quarrel of the many that thou hast slain of the pilgrims, 
when thou hast dragged them out of the King's highway : 
wherefore come out of thy cave. So he armed himself and 
came out, and to a battle they went, and fought for above 
an hour, and then stood still to take wind. 

275 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Slay. Then said the giant, Why are you here on my 
ground ? 

Great. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I also told 
thee before. So they went to it again, and the giant made 
Mr Great-heart give back : but he came up again, and in 
Feeble-mind ^^^ greatness of his mind he let fly with 

rescued from the such stoutness at the giant's head and sides, 
^^ that he made him let his weapon fall out of 

his hand. So he smote him, and slew him, and cut off his 
head, and brought it away to the inn. He also took Feeble- 
mind the pilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodgings. 
When they were come home, they showed his head to the 
family, and set it up as they had done others before, for a 
terror to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter. 

Then they asked Mr Feeble-mind how he fell into his 
hands. 

Feeble. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, 
as you see : and because death did usually once a day 
How Feeble-mind l^^^ck at my door, I thought I should never 
came to be a be well at home; so I betook myself to a 

p grm» pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither 

from the town of Uncertain, where I and my father were 
born. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor yet 
of mind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl, 
spend my life in the pilgrim's way. When I came at the 
gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord of that place 
did entertain me freely ; neither objected He against my 
weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind ; but gave me 
such things that were necessary for my journey, and bid 
me hope to the end. When I came to the house of the 
Interpreter, I received much kindness there : and because 
the Hill Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was 
carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have 
found much relief from pilgrims, though none were 
willing to go so softly as I am forced to do : yet still 
as they came on, they bid me be of good cheer, and 
said, that it was the will of their Lord that comfort should 
be given to the feeble-minded, and so went on their owa 

276 




MR FEEBLE-MIND 

pace. When I was come up to Assault Lane, then this giant 
met with me, and bid me prepare for an encounter. But, 
alas ! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial ; 
so he came up and took me. I conceited he should not 
kill me. Also when he had got me into his den, since I 
went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out 
alive again ; for I have heard, that not any m v h- i 
pilgrim that is taken captive by violent 
hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master, is, by 
the laws of providence to die by the hand of the enemy. 
Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am ; but 
I am, as you see, escaped with life, for the which I 
thank my King as author, and you as the means. Other 
brunts I also look for ; but this I have resolved on, 
to wit, to run when I can, to go when I , , 

' J I ° T Markthisl 

cannot run, and to creep when 1 cannot 
go. As to the main, I thank Him that loves me, I am 
fixed ; my way is before me, my mind is beyond the river 
that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a 
feeble mind. 

Hon. Then said old Mr Honest, Have not you some 
time ago been acquainted with one Mr Fearing, a pilgrim ? 

Feeble. Acquainted with him ! Yes, he came from 
the town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees north- 
ward of the City of Destruction, and as many off of where 
I was born : yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he 
was mine uncle, my father's brother. He ^ p • « 
and I have been much of a temper : he Feebie-mind's 
was a little shorter than I, but yet we ""*^^® 
were much of a complexion. 

Hon. I perceive you knew him, and I am apt to believe 
also that you were related one to another ; 

r il 1. L'lii I'l Feeble-mind has 

tor you have his whitely look, a cast like some of Mr Fear- 
his with your eye, and your speech is >■&'« features 
much alike. 

Feeble. Most have said so that have known us both : 
and besides, what I have read in him I have for the most 
part found in myself. 

277 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Gaius. Come, sir, said Gaius, be of good cheer j you 
Gaius comforts ^^^ welcome to me and to my house. And 

1**™ what thou hast a mind to, call for freely ; 

and what thou wouldest have my servants do for thee, they 
will do it with a ready-mind. 

Feeble. Then said Mr Feeble-mind, This is unexpected 
favour, and as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. 
Notice to be taken Did Giant Slay-good intend me this favour 
of Providence when he stopped me, and resolved to let 

me go no further ? Did he intend, that after he had rifled 
my pockets, I should go to Gaius mine host ^ Yet so it is. 

Now just as Mr Feeble-mind and Gaius were thus in 

talk, there comes one running, and called at 

NowflhtTas"^ the door, and told, That about a mile and 

slain by a thunder- g half off there was One Mr Not-right, a 

Mr Feeble-mind's pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where 

comment upon it ^^ ^^^^ ^j^^ ^ thunderbolt. 

Feeble. Alas ! said Mr Feeble-mind, is he slain ? He 
overtook me some days before I came so far as hither, and 
would be my company-keeper. He also was with me 
when Slay-good the giant took me, but he was nimble of 
his heels, and escaped : but it seems he escaped to die, and 
I was took to live. 

What one would think doth seek to slay outright, 

Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight. 

That very Providence whose face is death, 

Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath. 

I taken was, he did escape and flee; 

Hands crossed give death to him and life to me. 

Now about this time Matthew and Mercy were married ; 
also Gaius gave his daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's 
brother, to wife ; after which time, they yet stayed above 
ten days at Gaius's house, spending their time and the 
seasons like as pilgrims use to do. 

When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, 

. and they did eat and drink, and were 

prepare^ogo merry. Now the hour was come that they 

forward must be gone ; wherefore Mr Great-heart 

called for a reckoning. But Gaius told him, that at his 



LEAVING GAIUS'S HOUSE 

house it was not the custom of pilgrims to pay for their 
entertainment. He boarded them by the year, but looked 
for his pay from the Good Samaritan, who had promised 
him, at His return, whatsoever charge he was at with them, 
faithfully to repay him. Then said Mr Great-heart to 
him : 

Great. Beloved, thou doest faithfully, whatsoever thou 
dost to the brethren, and to strangers, jj xj^ 
which have borne witness of thy charity one another at 
before the church : whom if thou bring p*''*"^^ 
forward on their journey after a godly sort, thou shalt 
do well. Then Gains took his leave of caius's last kind 
them all, and of his children, and particu- ness to Feebie- 
larly of Mr Feeble-mind. He also gave 
him something to drink by the way. 

Now Mr Feeble-mind, when they were going out of 
the door, made as if he intended to linger. The which 
when Mr Great-heart espied, he said. Come, Mr Feeble- 
mind, pray do you go along with us j I will be your 
conductor, and you shall fare as the rest. 

Feeble. Alas ! I want a suitable companion. You 
are all lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am weak j I 
choose therefore rather to come behind, Feebie-mind for 
lest, by reason of my many infirmities, I going behind 
should be both a burden to myself and to you. I am, as I 
said, a man of a weak and feeble mind, and shall be 
offended and made weak at that which others can bear. I 
shall like no laughing : I shall like no gay „. , .^ 

T1111-7 /-11 His excuse for it 

attire ; 1 shall like no unprofitable ques- 
tions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be offended with that 
which others have a liberty to do. I do not yet know all the 
truth : I am a very ignorant Christian man. Sometimes, if I 
hear any rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me, because I cannot 
do so too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among the 
strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy, or as a 
lamp despised j He that is ready to slip with his feet is as 
a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease j so 
that I know not what to do. 

275> 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Great. But, brother, said Mr Great-heart, I have it 
Great-heart's com- '^^ Commission to comfort the feeble- 
mission minded, and to support the weak. You 
must needs go along with us ; we will wait for you ; we 
will lend you our help ; we will deny our- 

A Christian spirit . r i.- i. ^l • • ^• 

selves or some things, both opimonative 
and practical, for your sake j we will not enter into doubt- 
ful disputations before you *, we will be made all things to 
you, rather than you shall be left behind. 

Now all this while they were at Gaius's doorj and 
behold, as they were thus in the heat of their discourse, 
Mr Ready-to-halt came by, with his crutches in his 
. hand, and he also was going on pil- 

grimage. 
Feeble. Then said Mr Feeble-mind to him, Man, how 
earnest thou hither ? I was but just now complaining that 
^ ,, . J , , I had not a suitable companion, but thou 

Feeble-mmd g-lad ,. f , ij-T- , 

to see Ready-to- art according to my wish. Welcome, 
halt come by welcome, good Mr Ready-to-halt, I hope 

thee and I may be some help. 

Ready. I shall be glad of thy company, said the 
other; and, good Mr Feeble-mind, rather than we will 
part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one 
of my crutches. 

Feeble. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy good 
will, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. Howbeit, 
I think, when occasion is, it may help me against a dog. 

Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a 
pleasure, we are both at thy command, good Mr Feeble-mind. 

Thus therefore they went on. Mr Great-heart and 
Mr Honest went before, Christiana and her children went 
next, and Mr Feeble-mind and Mr Ready-to-halt came 
behind, with his crutches. Then said Mr Honest, 

Hon. Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us 

some profitable things of some that have 
New talk ^ ., . T°r 

gone on pilgrimage berore us. 

Great. With a good will. I suppose you have heard 

how Christian of old did meet with Apollyon in the Valley 

280 



TALK OF THE PILGRIMS 

of Humiliation, and also what hard work he had to go 
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Also L 
think you cannot but have heard how Faithful was put to 
it with. Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, with one 
Discontent, and Shame ; four as deceitful villains as a man 
can meet with upon the road. 

Hon. Yes, I have heard of all this ; but indeed good 
Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame j he was an 
unwearied one. 

Great. Ay ; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all 
men had the wrong name. 

Hon. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and 
Faithful met Talkative ? That same was also a notable 
one. 

Great. He was a confident fool ; yet many follow his ways. 

Hon. He had like to a beguiled Faithful. 

Great. Ay, but Christian put him into a way quickly 
to find him out. 

Thus they went on till they came at the place where 
Evangelist met with Christian and Faithful, and prophesied 
to them of what should befall them at Vanity Fair. 

Great. Then said their guide. Hereabouts did Christian 
and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to them 
of what troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair. 

Hon. Say you so .'' I dare say it was a hard chapter 
that then he read unto them. 

Great. 'Twas so, but he gave them encouragement 
withal. But what do we talk of them ? They were a couple 
of lion-like men ; they had set their faces like flints. Don't 
you remember how undaunted they were when they stood 
before the judge ? 

Hon. Well, Faithful bravely suffered. 

Great. So he did, and as brave things came on't j for 
Hopeful, and some others, as the story relates it, were 
converted by his death. 

Hon. Well, but pray go on ; for you are well ac- 
quainted with things. 

Great. Above all that Christian met with after he had 
281 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

passed through Vanity Fair, one By-ends was the arch 
one. 

Hon. By-ends ! what was he ? 

Great A very arch-fellow, a downright hypocrite j 
one that would be religious, which way ever the world 
went ; but so cunning, that he would be sure neither to lose 
nor suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for every 
fresh occasion, and his wife was as good at it as he. He 
would turn and change from opinion to opinion ; yea, and 
plead for so doing too. But so far as I could learn, he 
came to an ill end with his by-ends ; nor did I ever hear 
that any of his children were ever of any esteem with any 
that truly feared God. 

Now by this time they were come within sight of the 
^, town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. 

Tncv 3,rc cotnc « 

within sight of So wlien they saw that they were so near 

Vanity Fair ^^^ towu, they Consulted with one another 

how they should pass through the town ; and some said 
one thing, and some another. At last Mr Great-heart said, 
I have, as you may understand, often been a conductor of 
pilgrims through this town. Now, I am acquainted with 
one Mr Mnason, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, 
at whose house we may lodge. If you think good, said 
he, we will turn in there. 

Content, said old Honest ; Content, said Christiana ; 
Content, said Mr Feeble-mind •, and so they said all. Now 
you must think it was even-tide by that they got to the 
outside of the town ; but Mr Great-heart knew the way 
to the old man's house. So thither they came ; and he 
called at the door, and the old man within knew his 
tongue so soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened, 
_^ , . , and they all came in. Then said Mnason 

They enter into one . . i tt r i ^ i 

Mr Mnason's to their host, Hov/ tar have ye come to-day r 
^°*^^* So they said, From the house of Gains our 

friend. I promise you, said he, you have gone a good stitch. 
You may well be aweary ; sit down. So they sat down. 

Great. Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, sirs ? 
I dare say you are welcome to my friend. 

282 



MNASON'S FRIENDS 

Mnas. I also, said Mr Mnason, do bid you welcome ; 
and whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what 
we can to get it for you. 

Hon. Our great want a while since was harbour and 
good company, and now I hope we have They are glad of 

both. entertainment 

Mnas. For harbour, you see what it is ; but for good 
company, that will appear in the trial. 

Great. Well, said Mr Great-heart, will you have the 
pilgrims up into their lodging ? 

Mnas, I will, said Mr Mnason. So he had them to 
their respective places ; and also showed them a very fair 
dining-room, where they might be, and sup together, until 
time was come to go to rest. 

Now when they were set in their places, and were a little 
cheery after their journey, Mr Honest asked his landlord if 
there were any store of good people in the town. 

Mnas. We have a few ; for indeed they are but a few, 
when compared with them on the other side. 

Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them? for 
the sight of good men to them that are -.^ ^ . . 

" ., V • Ml 1 • They desire to see 

gomg on pilgrimage, is hke to the appearing some of the good 
of the moon and the stars to them that are p'°p'' °^^^^ *°^ 
sailing upon the seas. 

Mnas. Then Mr Mnason stamped with his foot, and 
his daughter Grace came up. So he said unto her, Grace, 
go you, tell my friends, Mr Contrite, Mr 
Holy-man, Mr Love-saint, Mr Dare-not-lie, 
and Mr Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house 
that have a mind this evening to see them. So Grace 
went to call them, and they came ; and after salutation 
made, they sat down together at the table. 

Then said Mr Mnason their landlord. My neighbours, I 
have, as you see, a company of strangers come to my 
house ; they are pilgrims : they come from afar, and are 
going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you think 
this is ? pointing with his finger to Christiana. It is Chris- 
tiana the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim, who with 

2P3 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Faithful his brother were so shamefully handled in our town. 
At that they stood amazed, saying, "We little thought to see 
Christiana when Grace came to call us j wherefore this is 
a very comfortable surprise. They then asked her of her 
welfare, and if these young men were her husband's sons. 
And when she had told them they were, they said. The 
King whom you love and serve make you as your father, 
and bring you where he is in peace. 

Some talk betwixt ^O". Then Mr Honest(when they Were 
Mr Honest and all sat down) asked Mr Contrite and the 
rest, in what posture their town was at 
present. 

Contr. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair 
time. 'Tis hard keeping our hearts and spirits in any good 
The fruit of watch- Order when we are in a cumbered condition. 
'"^""^ He that lives in such a place as this is, and 

that has to do with such as we have, has need of an item 
to caution him to take heed every moment of the day. 

Hon. But how are your neighbours for quietness ? 

Contr. They are much more moderate now than 
o ^. ^ formerly. You know how Christian and 

Persecution not so _, . , ^ ^ , , ^ , 

hot at Vanity 1* aithtul were used at our town J but or late, 

auras ormery j ^^^^ ^.j^^^ have been far more moderate. I 

think the blood of Faithful lieth with load upon them till 
now ; for since they burned him, they have been ashamed to 
burn any more. In those days we were afraid to walk the 
streets, but now we can show our heads. Then the name 
of a professor was odious ; now, specially in some parts 
of our town (for you know our town is large), religion is 
counted honourable. Then said Mr Contrite to them. 
Pray how fareth it with you in your pilgrimage ? how 
stands the country affected towards you ? 

Hon. It happens to us, as it happeneth to wayfaring 
men ; — sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul j some- 
times up hill, sometimes down hill ; we are seldom at a 
certainty. The wind is not always on our backs, nor is 
every one a friend that we meet with in the way. We 
have met with some notable rubs already, and what are 

284 



RUBS OF THE PILGRIMS 

yet behind we know not ; but for the most part we find it 
true that has been talked of of old, A good man must 
suffer trouble. 

Contr. You talk of rubs ; what rubs have you met 
withal ? 

Hon. Nay, ask Mr Great-heart our guide ; for he can 
give the best account of that. 

Great. We have been beset three or four times 
already. First, Christiana and her children were beset with 
two ruffians, that they feared would a took away their lives. 
We were beset with Giant Bloodyman, Giant Maul, and 
Giant Slay-good. Indeed, we did rather beset the last than 
were beset of him. And thus it was : after we had been 
some time at the house of Gains mine host, and of the 
whole church, we were minded upon a time to take our 
weapons with us, and go see if we could light upon any 
of those that were enemies to pilgrims j for we heard that 
there was a notable one thereabouts. Now Gains knew 
his haunt better than I, because he dwelt thereabout. So 
we looked, and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth 
of his cave : then we were glad, and plucked up our 
spirits. So we approached up to his den ; and lo, when 
we came there, he had dragged, by mere force, into his 
net, this poor man, Mr Feeble-mind, and was about to 
bring him to his end. But when he saw us, supposing, as 
we thought, he had had another prey, he left the poor 
man in his hole, and came out. So we fell to it full sore, 
and he lustily laid about him 5 but, in conclusion, he was 
brought down to the ground, and his head cut off, 
and set up by the way-side, for a terror to such as should 
after practise such ungodliness. That I tell you the 
truth, here is the man himself to affirm it, who was as a 
lamb taken out of the mouth of the lion. 

Feeble. Then said Mr Feeble-mind, I found this 
true, to my cost and comfort : to my cost, when he 
threatened to pick my bones every moment j and to my 
comfort, when I saw Mr Great-heart and his friends, 
with their weapons, approach so near for my deliverance. 

285 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Holy. Then said Mr Holy-man, There are two things 
Mr Holy-man's ^^^^ ^^^Y ^^^^ need to be posscssed with 
speech that go on pilgrimage j courage, and an 

unspotted life. If they have not courage, they can never 
hold on their way ; and if their lives be loose, they will 
make the very name of a pilgrim stink. 

Love. Then said Mr Love-saint, I hope this caution 
Mr Love-sainfs is not needful amongst you. But truly 
speech there are many that go upon the road, 

that rather declare themselves strangers to pilgrimage, 
than strangers and pilgrims in the earth. 

Dare. Then said Mr Dare-not-lie, 'Tis true. They 
Mr Dare-not-Ue, neither have the pilgrim's weed, nor the 
his speech pilgrim's courage ; they go not uprightly, 

but all awry with their feet j one shoe goes inward, 
another outward ; and their hosen out behind j there a 
rag, and there a rent, to the disparagement of their Lord. 

Pen. These things, said Mr Penitent, they ought to be 
Mr Penitent, his troubled for ; nor are the pilgrims like to 

speech have that grace put upon them and their 

Pilgrim's Progress as they desire, until the way is cleared 
of such spots and blemishes. Thus they sat talking and 
spending the time until supper was set upon the table, 
unto which they went, and refreshed their weary bodies, 
so they went to rest. 

Now they staid in this fair a great while at the house of 
this Mr Mnason, who in process of time gave his daughter 
Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and his 
daughter Martha to Joseph. 

The time, as I said, that they lay here, was long, 
for it was not now as in former times. Wherefore the 
pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people 
of the town, and did them what service they could. 
Mercy, as she was wont, laboured much for the poor: 
wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her, and she was 
there an ornament to her profession. And, to say the truth, 
for Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they were all of a very good 
Qature, and did much good in their place. They were also 

286 



A MONSTER 

all of them very fruitful ; so that Christian's name, as was 
said before, was like to live in the world. 

While they lay here, there came a monster out of the 
woods, and slew many of the people of . 

, _ til 1 • A monster 

the town. It would also carry away their 
children, and teach them to suck its whelps. Now no man 
in the town durst so much as face this monster, but all men 
fled when they heard of the noise of his coming. 

The monster was like unto no one beast upon the earth. 
Its body was like a dragon, and it had 
seven heads and ten horns. It made 
great havoc of children, and yet it was governed by a 
w^oman. This monster propounded con- 

d, ', ^ 11 His nature 

itions to men ; and such men as loved 

their lives more than their souls accepted those conditions. 

So they came under. 

Now this Mr Great-heart, together with these that came 
to visit the pilgrims at Mr Mnason's house, entered into a 
covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps they 
might deliver the people of this town from the paws and 
mouth of this so devouring a serpent. 

Then did Mr Great-heart, Mr Contrite, Mr Holy-man, 
Mr Dare-not-lie, and Mr Penitent, with their weapons, go 
forth to meet him. Now the monster at 
first was very rampant, and looked upon o^ engage 
these enemies with great disdain j but they so belaboured 
him, being sturdy men at arms, that they made him make 
a retreat : so they came home to Mr Mnason's house again. 

The monster, you must know, had his certain seasons 
to come out in, and to make his attempts upon the children 
of the people of the town. Also these seasons did these 
valiant worthies watch him in, and did still continually 
assault him; insomuch that in process of time he became not 
only wounded, but lame. Also he has not made that havoc 
of the townsmen's children as formerly he has done ; and 
it is verily believed by some that this beast will die of his 
wounds. 

This therefore made Mr Great-heart and his fellows of 
287 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

great fame in this town ; so that many of the people that 
wanted their taste of things, yet had a reverent esteem and 
respect for them. Upon this account therefore it was that 
these pilgrims got not much hurt here. True, there were 
some of the baser sort, that could see no more than a mole, 
nor understand more than a beast ; these had no reverence 
for these men, nor took they notice of their valour or 
adventures. 

Well, the time drew on that the pilgrims must go on 
their way j wherefore they prepared for their journey. 
They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them ; 
they had some time set apart therein to commit each other 
to the protection of their Prince. There were again that 
brought them of such things as they had, that were fit for 
the weak and the strong, for the women and the men, 
and so laded them with such things as were necessary. 
Then they set forwards on their way ; and their friends 
accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again 
committed each other to the protection of their King, and 
parted. 

They therefore that were of the pilgrims' company 
went on, and Mr Great-heart went before them. Now 
the women and children being weakly, they were forced 
to go as they could bear j by this means Mr Ready-to- 
halt and Mr Feeble-mind had more to sympathize with 
their condition. 

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when 
their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came to 
the place where Faithful was put to death. There there- 
fore they made a stand, and thanked Him that had enabled 
him to bear his cross so well j and the rather, because 
they now found that they had a benefit by such a manly 
suffering as his was. 

They went on therefore after this a good way further, 
talking of Christian and Faithful, and how Hopeful joined 
himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead. 

Now they were come up with the Hill Lucre, where the 
silver mine was which took Demas off from his pilgrimage, 

288 



BY-PATH MEADOW 

and into which, as some think, By-ends fell and perished j 
wherefore they considered that. But when they were 
come to the old monument that stood over against the 
Hill Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salt, that stood also 
within view of Sodom and its stinking lake, they marvelled, 
as did Christian before, that men of that knowledge and 
ripeness of wit as they were should be so blinded as to turn 
aside here. Only they considered again, that nature is 
not affected with the harms that others have met with, 
specially if that thing upon which they look has an 
attracting virtue upon the foolish eye. 

I saw now that they went on till they came at the 
river that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains ; 
— to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides, 
and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against 
surfeits ; where the meadows are green all the year long 5 
and where they might lie down safely. 

By this river side, in the meadow, there were cotes 
and folds for sheep, a house built for the nourishing 
and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of those 
women that go on pilgrimage. Also there was here 
one that was intrusted with them, who could have com- 
passion ; and that could gather these lambs with his 
arm, and carry them in his bosom, and that could gently 
lead those that were with young. Now to the care 
of this man Christiana admonished her four daughters 
to commit their little ones, that by these waters they 
might be housed, harboured, succoured, and nourished, 
and that none of them might be lacking in time to come. 
This man, if any of them go astray, or be lost, he will 
bring them again •, he will also bind up that which 
was broken, and will strengthen them that are sick. 
Here they will never want meat, and drink, and clothing ; 
here they will be kept from thieves and robbers ; 
for this man will die before one of those committed 
to his trust shall be lost. Besides, here they shall be 
sure to have good nurture and admonition, and shall 
be taught to walk in right paths, and that you 

28^ T 



JHE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

know is a favour of no small account. Also here, as you 
see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, 
variety of trees, and such as bear wholesome fruit ; — fruit, 
not like that that Matthew ate of, that fell over the 
wall out of Beelzebub's garden ; but fruit that procureth 
health where there is none, and that continueth and 
increaseth it where it is. So they were content to commit 
their little ones to him ; and that which was also an en- 
couragement to them so to do, was, for that all this was 
to be at the charge of the King, and so was an hospital to 
young children and orphans. 

Now they went on. And when they were come to 
„, . . By-path Meadow, to the stile over which 

They being: come ^V • • • i i • r n tt r i 

to By-path stile, Christian went with his tellow rloperul, 
have a* pluck with wheu they Were taken by Giant Despair, 
Giant Despair ^^^ p^j j^j-q Doubting Castle, they sat 

down, and consulted what was best to be done : to wit, 
now they were so strong, and had got such a man as 
Mr Great-heart for their conductor, whether they had 
not best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his 
castle, and if there were any pilgrims in it, to set them at 
liberty, before they went any further. So one said one 
thing, and another said the contrary. One questioned if 
it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground ; another 
said they might, provided their end was good j but Mr 
Great-heart said. Though that assertion offered last 
cannot be universally true, yet I have a commandment to 
resist sin, to overcome evil, to fight the good fight of 
faith : and I pray, with whom should I fight this good 
fight, if not with Giant Despair .'' I will therefore 
attempt the taking away of his life and the demolishing of 
Doubting Castle. Then said he. Who will go with 
me ? Then said old Honest, I will. And so will 
we too, said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, 
James, and Joseph ; for they were young men and 
strong. So they left the women in the road, and with 
them Mr Feeble-mind, and Mr Ready-to-halt with his 
crutches, to be their guard, until they came back j for in 

290 



GIANT DESPAIR KILLED 

that place though Giant Despair dwelt so near, they, 
keeping in the road, a little child might lead them. 

So Mr Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young 
men, went to go up to Doubting Castle, to look for Giant 
Despair. When they came at the castle gate, they 
knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At that the 
old giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his wife 
follows. Then said he, Who and what is he that is so 
hardy, as after this manner to molest the Giant Despair ? 
Mr Great-heart replied. It is I, Great-heart, one of the 
King of the celestial country's conductors of pilgrims 
to their place ; and I demand of thee that thou open 
thy gates for my entrance : prepare thyself also to fight, 
for I am come to take away thy head, and to demolish 
Doubting Castle. 

Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no 
man could overcome him : and again Despair has over- 
thought he. Since heretofore I have made "me angels 
a conquest of angels, shall Great-heart make me afraid ? 
So he harnessed himself, and went out. He had a cap of 
steel upon his head, a breastplate of fire girded to him, and 
he came out in iron shoes, with a great club in his hand. 
Then these six men made up to him, and beset him behind 
and before: also when Diffidence the giantess came up to 
help him, old Mr Honest cut her down at one blow. Then 
they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was 
brought down to the ground, but was very Despair is loth to 
loth to die. He struggled hard, and had, ^'® 
as they say, as many lives as a cat ; but Great-heart was 
his death, for he left him not till he had severed his head 
from his shoulders. 

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, and that 
you know might with ease be done, since Doubting Castie 
Giant Despair was dead. They were seven demoUshed 
days in destroying of that ; and in it of pilgrims they found 
one Mr Despondency, almost starved to death, and one 
Much-afraid, his daughter : these two they saved alive. 
But it would a made you a wondered to have seen the dead 

291 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

bodies that lay here and there in the castle yard, and how 
full of dead men's bones the dungeon was. 

When Mr Great-heart and his companions had per- 
formed this exploit, they took Mr Despondency, and his 
daughter Much-afraid, into their protection ; for they were 
honest people, though they were prisoners in Doubting 
Castle to that tyrant Giant Despair. They, therefore, I say, 
took with them the head of the giant (for his body they 
had buried under a heap of stones), and down to the road 
and to their companions they came, and showed them what 
they had done. Now when Feeble-mind and Ready-to-halt 
saw that it was the head of Giant Despair indeed, they 
^, ^ . were very jocund and merry. Now Christi- 

They have music • r i i j i i • i 

and dancing for ana, u need was, could play upon the viol, 
^°^ and her daughter Mercy upon the lute : so 

since they were so merry disposed, she played them a 
lesson, and Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took Despond- 
ency's daughter. Much-afraid, by the hand, and to dancing 
they went in the road. True, he could not dance without 
one crutch in his hand, but I promise you, he footed it well : 
also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the 
music handsomely. 

As for Mr Despondency, the music was not much to 
him ; he was for feeding, rather than dancing, for that he 
was almost starved. So Christiana gave him some of her 
bottle of spirits for present relief, and then prepared him 
something to eat ; and in little time the old gentleman 
came to himself, and began to be finely revived. 

Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were 
finished, Mr Great-heart took the head of Giant Despair, 
and set it upon a pole by the highway side, right over 
against the pillar that Christian erected for a caution to 
pilgrims that came after, to take heed of entering into his 
grounds. 

Then he writ under it upon a marble stone these verses 
following : — 

This is the head of him, whose name only 
In former times did pilgrims terrify. 
292 



I 




MR DESPONDENCY AND HIS DAUGHTER MUCH-AFRAID 

They found one Mr Despondency, almost starved to death, and one 

Much-afraid, his daughter. 



THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS 

His castle's down, and Diffidence his wife 

Brave Mr Great-heart has bereft of life. A monument of 

Despondency, his daughter Much-afraid, deliverance 

Great-heart for them also the man has played. 

Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye 

Up hither, may his scruples satisfy. 

This head also, when doubting cripples dance, 

Doth show from fears they have deliverance. 

When these men had thus bravely showed themselves 
against Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant Despair, they 
went forward, and went on till they came to the Delect- 
able Mountains, where Christian and Hopeful refreshed 
themselves with the varieties of the place. They also 
acquainted themselves with the Shepherds there, who 
welcomed them, as they had done Christian before, unto 
the Delectable Mountains. 

Now the Shepherds seeing so great a train follow Mr 
Great-heart (for with him they were well acquainted), 
they said unto him. Good sir, you have got a goodly 
company here ; pray where did you find all these ? 

Then Mr Great-heart replied : — 

First, here's Christiana and her train. 

Her sons, and her sons' wives, who like the wain, 

Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer 

From sin to grace, else they had not been here. 

Next here's old Honest come on pilgrimage. 

Ready-to-halt too, who I dare engage The guide's speech 

True-hearted is, and to is Feeble-mind, to the Shepherds 

Who willing was not to be left behind. 

Despondency, good man, is coming after. 

And so also is Much-afraid, his daughter. 

May we have entertainment here, or must 

We further go? Let's know whereon to trust. 

Then said the Shepherds, This is a comfortable com- 
pany. You are welcome to us ; for we have for the 
feeble, as for the strong. Our Prince Their entertain- 
has an eye to what is done to the least ™^°* 
of these ; therefore infirmity must not be a block to our 
entertainment. So they had them to the palace door, 
and then said unto them, Come in, Mr Feeble-mind, 
come in, Mr Ready-to-halt, come in, Mr Despondency, 

2P3 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and Mrs Much-afraid, his daughter. These, Mr Great- 
heart, said the Shepherds to the guide, we call in by 
name, for that they are most subject to draw back ; but 
as for you, and the rest that are strong, we leave you 
to your wonted liberty. Then said Mr Great-heart, This 
day I see that grace doth shine in your faces, and that you 
A description of ^^e my Lord's shepherds indeed; for that 
false shepherds jq^ have uot pushed these diseased neither 
with side nor shoulder, but have rather strewed their way 
into the palace with flowers, as you should. 

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr Great-heart 
and the rest did follow. When they were also set down 
the Shepherds said to those of the weaker sort. What is 
it that you would have ? for, said they, all things must be 
managed here to the supporting of the weak, as well as 
to the warning of the unruly. So they made them a feast 
of things easy of digestion, and that were pleasant to the 
palate, and nourishing ; the which when they had received, 
they went to their rest, each one respectively unto his 
proper place. 

When morning was come, because the mountains were 
high and the day clear, and because it was the custom of 
the Shepherds to show to the pilgrims before their departure 
some rarities, therefore after they were ready, and had 
refreshed themselves, the Shepherds took them out into 
the fields, and showed them first what they had showed to 
Christian before. 

Then they had them to some new places. The first was 
to Mount Marvel, where they looked, and 
arve behold a man at a distance, that tumbled 

the hills about with words. Then they asked the Shep- 
herds what that should mean. So they told them, that 
that man was the son of one Great-grace, of whom you 
read in the first part of the records of the Pilgrims 
Progress \ and he is set there to teach pilgrims how to 
believe down, or to tumble out of their ways, what 
difficulties they shall meet with, by faith. Then said 
Mr Great-heart, I know him, he is a man above many. 

294 



MOUNT CHARITY 

Then they had them to another place, called Mount 

Innocent. And there they saw a man ,, ^. 

, , , , , . , . , •' n Mount Innocent 

clothed all m white ; and two men, Pre- 
judice and Ill-will, continually casting dirt upon him. 
Now, behold, the dirt, whatsoever they cast at him, 
would in little time fall off again, and his garment would 
look as clear as if no dirt had been cast thereat. Then 
said the pilgrims, What means this ? The Shepherds 
answered. This man is named Godly-man, and this garment 
is to show the innocency of his life. Now those that 
throw dirt at him, are such as hate his well-doing ; but, 
as you see the dirt will not stick upon his clothes, so it 
shall be with him that liveth truly innocently in the world. 
Whoever they be that would make such men dirty, they 
labour all in vain ; for God, by that a little time is spent, 
will cause that their innocence shall break forth as the 
light, and their righteousness as the noonday. 

Then they took them, and had them to Mount Charity, 
where they showed them a man that had a <■ ch -t 

bundle of cloth lying before him, out of 
which he cut coats and garments for the poor that stood 
about him j yet his bundle or roll of cloth was never the 
less. Then said they. What should this be .? This is, 
said the Shepherds, to show you, that he that has a heart 
to give of his labour to the poor, shall never want where- 
withal. He that watereth, shall be watered himself. And 
the cake that the widow gave to the prophet, did not cause 
that she had ever the less in her barrel. 

They had them also to a place where they saw one 
Fool, and one Want-wit, washing of an ^, , , 

T- , . ' . . I . . , 1 . The work of one 

Ethiopian, with mtention to make him Fool and one 
white ; but the more they washed him Want-wit 
the blacker he was. They then asked the Shepherds what 
that should mean. So they told them, saying. Thus shall 
it be with the vile person ; all means used to get such a 
one a good name, shall in conclusion tend but to make 
him more abominable. Thus it was with the Pharisees j 
and so shall it be with all hypocrites. 

29$ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana, 
.. , . , her mother, Mother, I would, if it might 

Mercy has a mmd . i i i • i i mi t 

to see the hole in be. See the hole m the hill, or that com- 
thehiu monly called the by-way to hell. So her 

mother brake her mind to the Shepherds. Then they 
went to the door ; it was in the side of an hill ; and they 
opened it, and bid Mercy hearken a while. So she 
hearkened, and heard one saying, Cursed be my father 
for holding of my feet back from the way of peace and 
life. And another said, Oh that I had been torn in pieces 
before I had, to save my life, lost my soul ! And another 
said, If I were to live again, how would I deny myself 
rather than come to this place ! Then there was as if the 
very earth had groaned and quaked under the feet of this 
young woman for fear ; so she looked white, and came 
trembling away, saying. Blessed be he and she that are 
delivered from this place ! 

Now when the Shepherds had showed them all these 
things, then they had them back to the palace, and enter- 
tained them with what the house would afford. But 
Mercy longeth, Mercy, being a young and breeding woman, 
and for what longed for something which she saw there, 

but was ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked 
her what she ailed, for she looked as one not well. Then 
said Mercy, There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining- 
room, off of which I cannot take my mind j if, therefore, I 
have it not, I think I shall miscarry. Then said her mother, 
I will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they will 
not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed that these 
men should know that I longed. Nay, my daughter, said 
she, it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a thing 
as that. So Mercy said, Then, mother, if you please, ask 
the Shepherds if they are willing to sell it. 

Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present 
It was the Word of ^ man, one way, with his own feature 
C<xl exactly ; and turn it but another way, and 

it would show one the very face and similitude of the 
Prince of pilgrims himself. Yea, I have talked with them 



GIFTS OF THE SHEPHERDS 

that can tell, and they have said that they have seen the 
very crown of thorns upon His head by looking in that 
glass ; they have therein also seen the holes in His hands, 
in His feet, and His side. Yea, such an excellency is there 
in that glass, that it will show Him to one where they have 
a mind to see Him j whether living or dead ; whether in 
earth or heaven j whether in a state of humiliation or in 
His exaltation ; whether coming to suffer or coming to 
reign. 

Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart, now 
the names of the Shepherds are Knowledge, Experience, 
"Watchful, and Sincere, and said unto them, There is one 
of my daughters, a breeding woman, that I think doth long 
for something that she hath seen in this house; and she 
thinks she shall miscarry if she should by you be denied. 

Experience. Call her, call her, she shall assuredly 
have what we can help her to. So they called her, and 
said to' her, Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldest have ? 
Then she blushed, and said, The great glass that hangs up 
in the dining-room. So Sincere ran and she doth not lose 
fetched it, and with a joyful consent it was her longing 
given her. Then she bowed her head, and gave thanks, 
and said, By this I know that I have obtained favour in 
your eyes. 

They also gave to the other young women such things 
as they desired, and to their husbands great commendations, 
for that they joined with Mr Great-heart to the slaying of 
Giant Despair, and the demolishing of Doubting Castle. 

About Christiana's neck the Shepherds put a bracelet, 
and so they did about the necks of her „ ., 

r 1 1 II . . How the 

tour daughters ; also they put ear-rings in Shepherds adom 
their ears, and jewels on their foreheads. epignms 

When they were minded to go hence, they let them go 
in peace, but gave not to them those certain cautions which 
before were given to Christian and his companion. The 
reason was, for that these had Great-heart to be their 
guide, who was one that was well acquainted with things, 
and so could give them their cautions more seasonably, to 

--?7 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

wit, even then when the danger was nigh the approaching. 
What cautions Christian and his companions had received 
of the Shepherds, they had also lost by that the time 
was come that they had need to put them in practice. 
"Wherefore, here was the advantage that this company 
had over the other. 

From hence they went on singing ; and they said : — 

Behold how fitly are the stages set 

For their relief that pilgrims are become, 

And how they us receive without one let, 

That make the other life our mark and home I 

What novelties they have to us they give, 

That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live. 

They do upon us, too, such things bestow, 
That show we pilgrims are where'er we go. 

When they were gone from the Shepherds they quickly 
came to the place where Christian met with one Turn-away, 
that dwelt in the town of Apostacy. Wherefore of him 
Mr Great-heart their guide did now put them in mind, 
saying, This is the place where Christian met with one 
Turn-away, who carried with him the character of his 
rebellion at his back. And this I have to say concerning 
this man ; — he would hearken to no counsel, but once a 
falling, persuasion could not stop him. When he came to 
„ _ the place where the cross and the sepulchre 

How one Turn- i j- i • i i i- i f. i , . 

away managed Were, he did meet with one that did bid him 
his apostacy j^^j^ there ; but he gnashed wilh his teeth, 

and stamped, and said he was resolved to go back to his own 
town. Before he came to the gate he met with Evangelist, 
who offered to lay hands on him, to turn him into the way 
again. But this Turn-away resisted him, and having done 
much despite unto him, he got away over the wall, and so 
escaped his hand. 

Then they went on ; and just at the place where Little- 
faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man with his 
sword drawn, and his face all bloody. Then said Mr 
Great-heart, What art thou ? The man made answer, 
saying, I am one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a 

298 



VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH 

pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. Now, as I 
was in my way, there were three men did _ „ ,. ^ , 

, . 11 1 One Vahant-for- 

beset me, and propounded unto me these truth beset with 
three things : I. Whether I would become ^^^^"^^ 
one of them. 2. Or go back from whence I came. 3. Or 
die upon the place. To the first I answered, I had 
been a true man for a long season, and therefore it 
could not be expected that I now should cast in my lot 
with thieves. Then they demanded what I would say to 
the second. So I told them, that the place from whence I 
came, had I not found incommodity there, I had not for- 
saken it at all J but finding it altogether unsuitable to me, 
and very unprofitable for me, I forsook it for this way. 
Then they asked me what I said to the third. And I told 
them, my life cost more dear far than that I should lightly 
give it away. Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put 
things to my choice ; wherefore at your peril be it if you 
meddle. Then these three, to wit. Wild-head, Incon- 
siderate, and Pragmatick, drew upon me, and I also drew 
upon them. So we fell to it, one against three, for the 
space of above three hours. They have How he behaved 
left upon me, as you see, some of the himself, and put 
marks of their valour, and have also carried ^"^ " '^ 
away with them some of mine. They are but just now 
gone : I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your 
horse dash, and so they betook themselves to flight. 

Great-heart. But here was great odds, three against one. 

Valiant. 'Tis true j but little and more Great-heart 
are nothing to him that has the truth on his wonders at his 
side : Though an host should encamp against ^ °^ 
me, said one, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise 
against me, in this will 1 be confident, etc. Besides, said he, 
I have read in some records that one man has fought an army : 
and how many did Samson slay with the jaw-bone of an ass ! 

Great. Then said the guide. Why did you not cry out, 
that some might a come in for your succour ? 

Valiant. So I did to my King, who I knew could hear, 
and afford invisible help, and that was sufficient for me. 

299.- 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Great. Then said Great-heart to Mr Valiant-for- truth, 

Thou hast worthily behaved thyself j let 

Ss swo^dJanV" ^16 See thy sword. So he showed it him. 

spends his judg. When he had taken it in his hand and 

looked thereon a while, he said. Ha ! it is 

a right Jerusalem blade. 

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, 
with a hand to wield it and skill to use it, and he may 
venture upon an angel with it. He need not fear its hold- 
ing, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its edges will never 
blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and soul and spirit and all. 

Great. But you fought a great while ; I wonder you 
was not weary. 

Valiant. I fought till my sword did cleave to my 
_. . hand : and when they were joined to- 

The word , ' . ^ , •' -" ^ 

The faith gether as ir a sword grew out or my 

^'°°** arm, and when the blood ran through 

my fingers, then I fought with most courage. 

Great. Thou hast done well ; thou hast resisted unto 
blood, striving against sin. Thou shalt abide by us, come 
in and go out with us ; for we are thy companions. Then 
they took him, and washed his wounds, and gave him of 
what they had, to refresh him : and so they went on together. 

Now as they went on, because Mr Great-heart was 
delighted in him (for he loved one greatly that he found 
to be a man of his hands), and because there was with 
Whatcountryman ^is Company them that were feeble and 
Mr Valiant was weak, therefore he questioned with him 
about many things j as first, what countryman he was. 

Valiant. I am of Dark-land ; for there I was born, 
and there my father and mother are still. 

Great. Dark-land, said the guide; doth not that lie 
upon the same coast with the City of Destruction ? 

Valiant. Yes, it doth. Now that which caused me to 

How Mr Valiant ^^^^ °" pilgrimage was this. We had 

came to go on oue Mr Tcll-true came into our parts, and 

pUgrimage j^^ ^^jj j^ about what Christian had done, 

that went from the City of Destruction ; namely, how he 

300 



VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART 

had forsaken his wife and children, and had betaken himself 
to a pilgrim's life. It was also confidently reported, how 
he had killed a serpent that did come out to resist him in 
his journey ; and how he got through to whither he in- 
tended. It was also told what welcome he had at all his 
Lord's lodgings, specially when he came to the gates of 
the Celestial City ; for there, said the man, he was received 
with sound of trumpet by a company of shining ones. He 
told it also how^ all the bells in the city did ring for joy at 
his reception, and what golden garments he was clothed 
with 5 with many other things that now I shall forbear to 
relate. In a word, that man so told the story of Christian 
and his travels that my heart fell into a burning haste to 
be gone after him ; nor could father or mother stay me. 
So I got from them, and am come thus far on my way. 

Great. You came in at the gate, did you not ? 

Valiant. Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us, 
that all would be nothing, if we did not 

, . , . '^1 He besnns neht 

begm to enter this way at the gate. 

Great. Look you, said the guide to Christiana, the 
pilgrimage of your husband, and what christian's name 
he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad ^mous 
far and near. 

Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife ? 

Great. Yes, that it is j and these are also her four sons. 

Valiant. What, and going on pilgrimage too ? 

Great. Yes, verily, they are following after. 

Valiant. It glads me at the heart. Good man, how joy- 
ful will he be when he shall see them that „ . , 

/- "6 's much re- 

would not go With him, yet to enter after joiced to see 

h^ ^t~ ^ • .. ^u /-^'^ I Christian's wife 

im in at the gates into the City ! 

Great. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; 
for next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will be a joy 
to meet there his wife and his children. 

Valiant. But now you are upon that, pray let me see 
your opinion about it. Some make a question, whether 
we shall know one another when we are there. 

Great. Do they think they shall know themselves then, 
301 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in that bliss ? 
and if they think they shall know and do 
Sow onelno'ther these, why not know others, and rejoice 
when we come jq their Welfare also? Again, since re- 

lations are our second self, though that 
state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not be 
rationally concluded, that we shall be more glad to see 
them there, than to see they are wanting ? 

Valiant. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to 
this. Have you any more things to ask me about my 
beginning to come on pilgrimage ? 

Great. Yes j were your father and mother willing 
that you should become a pilgrim ? 

Valiant. Oh, no ; they used all means imaginable to 
persuade me to stay at home. 

Great. Why, what could they say against it ? 

Valiant. They said it was an idle life ; 
bihfg?bfodts*tSt ^^^ if I myself were not inclined to sloth 
bjr his friends were and laziuess, I would never countenance a 

laid m his way ., . , ,. . 

pilgrim s condition. 

Great. And what did they say else ? 

Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous 
■way J yea, the most dangerous way in the world, said 
they, is that which the pilgrims go. 

Great. Did they show wherein this way is so dangerous ? 

Valiant. Yes ; and that in many particulars. 

Great. Name some of them. 

Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Despond, 
The first stum- where Christian was well nigh smothered. 
Wing-block They told me, that there were archers 

standing ready in Beelzebub Castle to shoot them that 
should knock at the Wicket-gate for entrance. They told 
me also of the wood and dark mountains ; of the hill 
Difficulty i of the lions ; and also of the three giants. 
Bloody-man, Maul, and Slay-good. They said moreover, 
that there was a foul fiend haunted the Valley of Humilia- 
tion ; and that Christian was by him almost bereft of life. 
Besides, said they, you must go over the Valley of the 

302 



VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART 

Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the 
light is darkness, where the way is full of snares, pits, 
traps, and gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, of 
Doubting Castle, and of the ruins that the pilgrims met 
with there. Further, they said I must go over the Enchanted 
Ground, which was dangerous ; and that after all this I 
should find a river, over which I should find no bridge; and 
that that river did lie betwixt me and the Celestial Country. 
Great. And was this all .'' 

Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was full 
of deceivers, and of persons that laid await 
there to turn good men out of the path. '^^^ ^^'^°'"^ 
Great. But how did they make that out ? 
Valiant. They told me, that Mr Worldly-wiseman did 
there lie in wait to deceive. They also said, 
that there were Formality and Hypocrisy ^ 
continually on the road. They said also, that By-ends, 
Talkative, or Demas, would go near to gather me up ; that 
the Flatterer would catch me in his net j or that, with green- 
headed Ignorance, I would presume to go on to the gate, 
from whence he always was sent back to the hole that was 
in the side of the hill, and made to go the by-way to hell. 
Great. I promise you, this was enough to discourage ; 
but did they make an end here ? 

Valiant. No, stay. They told me also of many that 
had tried that way of old, and that had 

^u • ^ T ^L The fourth 

gone a great way therein, to see ir they 
could find something of the glory there that so many had 
so much talked of from time to time, and how they came 
back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot out 
of doors in that path, to the satisfaction of all the country. 
And they named several that did so, as Obstinate and 
Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old 
Atheist, with several more; who, they said, had some 
of them gone far to see if they could find, but not 
one of them found so much advantage by going as 
amounted to the weight of a feather. 

Great. Said they any thing more to discourage you ? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr Fearing, 
who was a pilgrim, and how he found his 
way so solitary, that he never had com- 
fortable hour therein ; also that Mr Despondency had 
like to been starved therein ; yea, and also (which I had 
almost forgot) that Christian himself, about whom there 
has been such a noise, after all his ventures for a celestial 
crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, and 
never went foot further, however it was smothered up. 

Great. And did none of these things discourage you ? 

Valiant. No; they seemed but as so many nothings to me. 

Great. How came that about ? 

Valiant. Why, I still believed what Mr Tell-true 
How he got over had Said : and that carried me beyond 

these stumbung:- in 

blocks them all. 

Great. Then this was your victory, even your faith. 

Valiant. It was so. I believed, and therefore came 
out, got into the way, fought all that set themselves 
against me, and, by believing, am come to this place. 

Who would true valour see, 

Let him come hither ; 
One here will constant be, 

Come wind, come weather; 
There's no discouragement 
Shall make him once relent 
His first avowed intent 

To be a pilgrim. 

Whoso beset him round 

With dismal stories, 
Do but themselves confound ; 

His strength the more is. 
No lion can him fright, 
He'll with a giant fight, 
But he will have a right 

To be a pilgrim. 

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 

Can daunt his spirit; 
He knows he at the end 

Shall life inherit. 
Then fancies fly away. 
He'll fear not what men say; 
He'll labour night and day 

To be a pilgrim. 

3°4 



ENCHANTED GROUND 

By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, 
where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy. And 
that place was all grown over with briers and thorns, 
excepting here and there, where was an enchanted arbour, 
upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, 'tis 
a question, say some, whether ever they shall rise or wake 
again in this world. Over this forest therefore they went, 
both one with another, and Mr Great-heart went before, 
for that he was the guide j and Mr Valiant-for-truth he came 
behind, being there a guard, for fear lest peradventure some 
fiend, or dragon, or giant, or thief, should fall upon their 
rear, and so do mischief. They went on here, each man 
with his sword drawn in his hand ; for they knew it was 
a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another as 
well as they could. Feeble-mind, Mr Great-heart com- 
manded, should come up after him j and Mr Despondency 
was under the eye of Mr Valiant. 

Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and a 
darkness fell upon them all ; so that they could scarce, 
for a great while, see the one the other. Wherefore 
they were forced, for some time, to feel for one another 
by words ; for they walked not by sight. But any one 
must think, that here was but sorry going for the best 
of them all ; but how much worse for the women and 
children, who both of feet and heart were but tender ! 
Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him 
that lead in the front, and of him that brought them up 
behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag along. 

The way also was here very wearisome, through dirt and 
slabbiness. Nor was there, on all this ground, so much as 
one inn or victualling-house therein to refresh the feebler 
sort. Here, therefore, was grunting, and puffing, and 
sighing, while one tumbleth over a bush, another sticks fast 
in the dirt, and the children, some of them, lost their shoes 
in the mire ; — while one cries out, I am down ; and another. 
Ho, where are you ? and a third. The bushes have got 
such fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away from them. 

Then they came at an arbour, warm, and promising 
much refreshing to the pilgrims ; for it was finely wrought 

305 U 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

above head, beautified with greens, furnished with benches 
and settles. It also had in it a soft couch, 

An arbour on the , i • i ^ i nni- • 

enchanting whercon the weary might lean. 1 his, you 

ground must think, all things considered, was tempt- 

ing ; for the pilgrims already began to be foiled with the bad- 
ness of the way : but there was not one of them that made so 
much as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could per- 
ceive, they continually gave so good heed to the advice of 
their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, and 
of the nature of the dangers when they were at them, that 
usually when they were nearest to them, they did most pluck 
up their spirits, and hearten one another to deny the flesh. 
The name of the This arbour was called The Slothful's 
arbour Friend, on purpose to allure, if it might be, 

some of the pilgrims there to take up their rest when weary. 
I saw then in my dream, that they went on in this their 
The way difficult Solitary ground, till they came to a place at 
to find which a man is apt to lose his way. Now, 

though when it was light their guide could well enough 
tell how to miss those ways that led wrong, yet in the 
The guide has a dark he was put to a stand. But he had 
map of aU ways Jq j^jg pocket a map of all ways leading to 

leadmertoor r i /->, i ■ i /^- i r i 

from the city or from the Celestial City j wheretore he 

struck a light (for he never goes also without his tinder- 
box), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids him 
be careful in that place to turn to the right-hand way. And 
had he not here been careful to look in his map, they had all 
in probability been smothered in the mud ; for just a little 
before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way too, 
was a pit, none knows how deep, full of nothing but mud, 
there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in. 

Then thought I with myself. Who that goeth on pil- 
grimage but would have one of these maps 
about him, that he may look when he is at 
a stand, which is the way he must take ? 

They went on then in this Enchanted Ground, till 
An arbour and ^^^7 came to where was another arbour, 

two asleep therein and it was built by the highway-side. And 
in that arbour there lay two men, whose names were 

306 



LAST REFUGE OF THE ENEMY 

Heedless and Too-bold. These two went thus far on 
pilgrimage ; but here, being wearied with their journey, 
they sat down to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep. 
When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook 
their heads ; for they knew that the sleepers were in a 
pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to 
go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to them and 
try to wake them. So they concluded to go to them and 
awake them ; that is, if they could ; but with this caution, 
namely, to take heed that themselves did not sit down 
nor embrace the offered benefit of that arbour. 

So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each 
by his name, for the guide it seems did The pilgrims try 
know them ; but there was no voice nor '» ""^^^ **»««» 
answer. Then the guide did shake them, and do what he 
could to disturb them. Then said one of them, I will pay 
you when I take my money. At which the guide shook 
his head. I will fight so long as I can hold my sword in my 
hand, said the other. At that, one of the children laughed. 

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this ? The 
guide said. They talk in their sleep. If Their endeavour is 
you strike them, beat them, or whatever fruitless 
else you do to them, they will answer you after this 
fashion ; or as one of them said in old time, when the 
waves of the sea did beat upon him, and he slept as one 
upon the mast of a ship, When I awake, I will seek it 
again. You know when men talk in their sleeps, they 
say anything ; but their words are not governed either 
by faith or reason. There is an incoherency in their 
words now, as there was before betwixt their going on 
pilgrimage and sitting down here. This then is the 
mischief on't ; — when heedless ones go on pilgrimage, 'tis 
twenty to one but they are served thus. For this 
Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges that the 
enemy to pilgrims has ; wherefore it is, as you see, placed 
almost at the end of the way, and so it standeth against us 
with the more advantage. For when, thinks the enemy, 
will these fools be so desirous to sit down as when they 
are weary .>* and when so like to be weary as when almost 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

at their journey's end ? Therefore it is, I say, that the 
Enchanted Ground is placed so nigh to the land Beulah, and 
so near the end of their race. Wherefore let pilgrims look 
to themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to these 
that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can wake them. 

Then the pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward ; 
only they prayed their guide to strike a light, that they 
might go the rest of their way by the help of the light of 
The Ught of the * lantern. So he struck a light, and they 
Word went by the help of that through the 

rest of this way, though the darkness was very great. 
But the children began to be sorely weary, and they 
The children cry Cried out uuto Him that loveth pilgrims, 
for weariness (q make their way more comfortable. So 

by that they had gone a little further, a wind arose that 
drove away the fog, so the air became more clear. Yet 
they were not off (by much) of the Enchanted Ground ; 
only now they could see one another better, and the way 
wherein they should walk. 

Now when they were almost at the end of this ground, 

they perceived that a little before them was a solemn noise 

as of one that was much concerned. So they went on, 

and looked before them : and behold they 

stand-fast upon 111 t • 

his knees in the saw, as they thought, a man upon his 

Enchanted Ground ^^^^^^ ^j^j^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^5 ^jf^ ^^^ ^^^ 

speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one that was above. 
They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said ; so they 
went softly till he had done. When he had done he got 
up, and began to run towards the Celestial City. Then 
Mr Great-heart called after him, saying, Soho, friend ! let 
us have your company if you go, as I suppose you do, to 
the Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they came up 
to him. But so soon as Mr Honest saw him he said, 
I know this man. Then said Mr Valiant-for-truth, Prithee, 
who is it ? 'Tis one, said he, that comes from whereabouts 
The story of ^ dwelt. His name is Standfast ; he is 

Standfast Certainly a right good pilgrim. 

So they came up one to another. And presently Stand- 
fast said to old Honest, Ho, father Honest, are you there ? 

308 



STANDFAST'S ACCOUNT 

Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as you are there. Right 
glad am I, said Mr Standfast, that I have Talk betwixt him 
found you on this road. And as glad am I, and Mr Honest 
said the other, that I espied you upon your knees. Then 
Mr Standfast blushed, and said. But why, did you see me ? 
Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was 
glad at the sight. Why, what did you think ? said Stand- 
fast. Think ! said old Honest ; what should I think ? I 
thought we had an honest man upon the road, and therefore 
should have his company by and by. If you thought not 
amiss, how happy am I ! But if I be not as I should, I 
alone must bear it. That is true, said the other ; but 
your fear doth further confirm me that things are right 
betwixt the Prince of pilgrims and your soul. For He saith. 
Blessed is the man that feareth always. 

Valiant. Well but, brother, I pray thee tell us what 
was it that was the cause of thy being upon xhey found him 
thy knees even now ; was it for that some ^^ prayer 
special mercy laid obligations upon thee, or how ? 

Stand. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted 
Ground ; and as I was coming along I was ^^^^ .^ ^^^ ^^^^ 
musing with myself of what a dangerous fetched him upon 
road, the road in this place was, and how '^ ^^^ 
many that had come even thus far on pilgrimage had here 
been stopped and been destroyed. I thought also of the 
manner of the death with which this place destroyeth men. 
Those that die here, die of no violent distemper ; the death 
which such die is not grievous to them. For he that goeth 
away in a sleep, begins that journey with desire and 
pleasure. Yea, such acquiesce in the will of that disease. 

Hon. Then Mr Honest interrupting of him, said. Did 
you see the two men asleep in the arbour ? 

Stand. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there; 
and for aught I know, there they will lie till they rot. 
But let me go on in my tale. As I was thus musing, as 
I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, who 
presented herself unto me, and offered me three things, to 
wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. Now the truth is, 
I was both aweary and sleepy : I am also as poor as an owlet, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and that perhaps the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her once 
and again, but she put by my repulses, and smiled. Then I 
began to be angry ; but she mattered that nothing at all. 
Then she made offers again, and said if I would be ruled by 
her, she would make me great and happy; for, said she, I am 
the mistress of the world, and men are made happy by me. 
Madam Bubble, Then I asked her name, and she told me 
or this vain world it was Madam Bubble. This set me further 
from her ; but she still followed me with enticements. 
Then I betook me, as you see, to my knees, and with 
hands lift up, and cries, I prayed to Him that had said He 
would help. So just as you came up the gentlewoman 
went her way. Then I continued to give thanks for 
this my great deliverance ; for I verily believe she intended 
no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my 
journey. 

Hon. Without doubt her designs were bad. But, 
stay, now you talk of her, methinks I either have seen her, 
or have read some story of her. 

Stand. Perhaps you have done both. 

Hon. Madam Bubble ! Is she not a tall, comely dame, 
something of a swarthy complexion ? 

Stand. Right, you hit it : she is just such a one. 

Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give 
you a smile at the end of a sentence ? 

Stand. You fall right upon it again, for these are her 
very actions. 

Hon. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, 
and is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as if 
that was her heart's delight ? 

Stand. 'Tis just so ; had she stood by all this while 
you could not more amply have set her forth before me, 
nor have better described her features. 

Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good 
limner, and he that wrote of her said true. 

Great. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of 

her sorceries that this ground is enchanted. 

^ Whoever doth lay their head down in her 

lap had as good lay it down upon that block over which the 

310 



MADAM BUBBLE 

axe doth hang ; and whoever lay their eyes upon her 
beauty are counted the enemies of God. This is she 
that maintaineth in their splendour all those that are 
the enemies of pilgrims. Yea, this is she that has 
bought off many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is 
a great gossiper j she is always, both she and her 
daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or other, now com- 
mending, and then preferring the excellences of this life. 
She is a bold and impudent slut ; she will talk with any 
man. She always laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but 
highly commends the rich. If there be one cunning to 
get money in a place, she will speak well of him from 
house to house. She loveth banqueting and feasting 
mainly well ; she is always at one full table or another. 
She has given it out in some places that she is a goddess, 
and therefore some do worship her. She has her time, 
and open places of cheating ; and she will say and avow 
it, that none can show a good comparable to hers. She 
promiseth to dwell with children's children, if they will 
but love and make much of her. She will cast out 
of her purse gold like dust in some places and to some 
persons. She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, 
and to lie in the bosoms of men. She is never weary of 
commending her commodities, and she loves them most 
that think best of her. She will promise to some crowns 
and kingdoms if they will but take her advice ; yet many 
has she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times 
more to hell. 

Stand. Oh ! said Standfast, what a mercy is it that I 
did resist her ; for whither might she a drawn me ! 

Great. "Whither ? nay, none but God knows whither. 
But in general, to be sure, she would a drawn thee 
into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men 
in destruction and perdition. 'Twas she that set 
Absalom against his father, and Jeroboam against his 
master. 'Twas she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord ; 
and that prevailed with Demas to forsake the godly 
pilgrim's life. None can tell of the mischief that she 
doth. She makes variance betwixt rulers and subjects, 

211 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

betwixt parents and children, 'twixt neighbour and 
neighbour, 'twixt a man and his wife, 'twixt a man and 
himself, 'twixt the flesh and the heart. "Wherefore, 
good Mr Standfast, be as your name is, and when you 
have done all, stand. 

At this discourse there was among the pilgrims a 
mixture of joy and trembling j but at length they broke 
out and sang : 

What danger is the pilgrim in I 

How many are his foesl 
How many ways there are to sin 

No living mortal knows. 

Some of the ditch shy are, yet can 

Lie tumbling in the mire : 
Some, though they shun the frying-pan, 

Do leap into the fire. 

After this I beheld until they were come into the land 
of Beulah, where the sun shineth night and day. Here, 
because they were weary, they betook themselves a while 
to rest. And because this country was common for 
pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards that were 
here belonged to the King of the Celestial Country, there- 
fore they were licensed to make bold with any of His 
things. But a little while soon refreshed them here ; for 
the bells did so ring, and the trumpets continually sound 
so melodiously, that they could not sleep, and yet they 
received as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep 
never so soundly. Here also all the noise of them that 
walked the streets was. More pilgrims are come to town ! 
And another would answer, saying, And so many went 
over the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-day ! 
They would cry again, There is now a legion of shining 
ones just come to town, by which we know that there are 
more pilgrims upon the road ; for here they come to wait 
for them, and to comfort them after all their sorrow ! Then 
the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro. But how were 
their ears now filled with heavenly noises, and their eyes 
delighted with celestial visions ! In this land they heard 
Qothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted 

312 



MESSENGER TO CHRISTIANA 

nothing that was offensive to their stomach or mind j only 
when they tasted of the water of the _ ^. ^.^^ ^ ^. 

•',.,, , Death bitter to the 

river over which they were to go, they flesh, but sweet to 
thought that it tasted a little bitterish to ^^^ ^°"^ 
the palate •, but it proved sweeter when 'twas down. 

In this place there was a record kept of the names of 
them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of all the 
famous acts that they had done. It was here also much 
discoursed, how the river to some had d .Hh "t bb- 
had its flowings, and what ebbings it has ings and flowinsrs, 
had while others have gone over. It has e t e ti e 
been in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed its 
banks for others. 

In this place the children of the town would go into the 
King's gardens, and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, and 
bring them to them with much aiFection. Here also grew 
camphire, with spikenard and saffron, calamus, and cinna- 
mon, with all its trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, 
with all chief spices. With these the pilgrims' chambers 
were perfumed while they stayed here ; and with these 
were their bodies anointed, to prepare them to go over the 
river, when the time appointed was come. 

Now while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, 
there was a noise in the town that there was a post come 
from the Celestial City, with matter of , , 

/-^, ■ . 1 A messenger of 

great importance to one Lriristiana, the death sent to 
wife of Christian the pilgrim. So inquiry Christiana 
was made for her, and the house was found out where she 
was. So the post presented her with a 

1 •-r>i 1 r TT •! His messaere 

letter. 1 fie contents whereof was. Hail, 
good woman : I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth 
for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldest stand in His 
presence, in clothes of immortality, within this ten days. 

When he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith 
a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come 
to bid her make haste to be gone. The token was, an 
arrow with a point sharpened with love, let easily into her 
heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her, 
that at the time appointed she must be gone. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

"When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that 
she was the first of this company that was 
SdlaTh'toXm to go over, she called for Mr Great-heart 
t** d' *lfTt''di'**°*^ ^^^ guide, and told him how matters were. 
So he told her he was heartily glad of the 
news, and could a been glad had the post come for 
him. Then she bid that he should give advice how 
Her speech to her f^l things should be prepared for her 
8ruide journey. So he told her, saying. Thus 

and thus it must be, and we that survive will accompany 
you to the river side. 

Then she called for her children, and gave them her 
blessing, and told them that she yet read 
with comfort the mark that was set in 
their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, 
and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, 
she bequeathed to the poor that little she had, and com- 
manded her sons and her daughters to be ready against the 
messenger should come for them. 

When she had spoken these words to her guide, and to 

_ .. „ her children, she called for Mr Valiant- 

To Mr Valiant r ^ ^l j -j ^ l- c 

tor-truth, and said unto him, Sir, you 
have in all places showed yourself true-hearted; be 
faithful unto death, and my King will give you a crown 
of life. I would also entreat you to have an eye to 
my children ; and if at any time you see them faint, 
speak comfortably to them. For my daughters, my sons' 
wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the 

promise upon them will be their end. 

" But she gave Mr Standfast a ring. 

Then she called for old Mr Honest, and said of him. 

Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is 
To old Honest • i ■ t^i • j i t ■ i. 

no guile ! 1 hen said he, 1 wish you 

a fair day when you set out for Mount Sion, and shall 
be glad to see that you go over the river dry-shod. 
But she answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be 
gone ; for however the weather is in my journey, I shall 
have time enough when I come there to sit down and rest 
me, and dry me. 

3M 




CHRISTIANA BLESSING HER CHILDREN 
Then she called for her children, and gave them her blessing. 



PASSING THE RIVER 

Then came in that good man, Mr Ready-to-halt, to see 
her. So she said to him. Thy travel to Mr Ready-to- 
hither has been with difficulty 5 but that ^^^^ 
■will make thy rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready ; 
for at an hour when you think not, the messenger may come. 

After him came in Mr Despondency and his daughter 
Much-afraid ; to whom she said, You ^^ Despond- 
ought with thankfulness for ever to re- encyandhis 
member your deliverance from the hands 
of Giant Despair, and out of Doubting Castle. The effect 
of that mercy is that you are brought with safety hither. 
Be ye watchful, and cast away fear ; be sober, and hope 
to the end. 

Then she said to Mr Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered 
from the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that to Feebie- 
thou mightest live in the light of the living '^"^^ 
for ever, and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise 
thee to repent of thy aptness to fear and doubt of His 
goodness, before He sends for thee : lest thou shouldest, 
when He comes, be forced to stand before Him for that 
fault with blushing. 

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. 
So the road was full of people to see her „ , , ^ . 

1 • T. 1 1 1 1 III Her last day, and 

take her journey. But behold, all the manner of de- 
banks beyond the river were full of horses p**"**^* 
and chariots, which were come down from above to -ac- 
company her to the city gate. So she came forth, and 
entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that 
followed her to the river-side. The last word she was 
heard to say here was, I come. Lord, to be with Thee 
and bless Thee ! So her children and friends returned to 
their place, for that those that waited for Christiana had 
carried her out of their sight. So she went and called, 
and entered in at the gate with all the ceremonies of joy 
that her husband Christian had done before her. At her 
departure her children wept. But Mr Great-heart and 
Mr Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp 
for joy. So all departed to their respective places. 

In process of time, there came a post to the town again. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

and his business was with Mr Ready-to-halt. So he inquired 
Ready-to-hait him out, and Said, I am come to thee in the 

summoned name of Him whom thou hast loved and 

followed, though upon crutches ; and my message is to tell 
thee that He expects thee at His table to sup with Him in 
His kingdom, the next day after Easter j wherefore prepare 
thyself for this journey. Then he also gave him a token 
that he was a true messenger, saying, I have broken thy 
golden bowl and loosed thy silver cord. 

After this Mr Ready-to-halt called for his fellow pil- 
grims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall 
surely visit you also. So he desired Mr Valiant to make 
his will. And because he had nothing to bequeath to 
them that should survive him but his crutches, and his 
Promises good wishes, therefore thus he said, These 

crutches I bequeath to my son, that shall 
"'^'^ tread in my steps, with a hundred warm 

wishes that he may prove better than I have done. Then 
he thanked Mr Great-heart for his conduct and kindness, and 
so addressed himself to his journey. When he came at the 
brink of the river he said. Now I shall have 
wor s nomoreneedof these crutches, since yonder 

are chariots and horses for me to ride on. The last words he 
was heard to say were, Welcome life ! So he went his way. 

After this Mr Feeble-mind had tidings brought him 
Feeble-mind sum- that the post souudcd his hom at his 
•oo"*** chamber-door. Then he came in, and 

told him, saying, I am come to tell thee that the Master 
has need of thee, and that in very little time thou must 
behold His face in brightness. And take this as a token 
of the truth of my message ; Those that look out at 
the windows shall be darkened. Then Mr Feeble- 
mind called for his friends, and told them what errand 
had been brought unto him, and what token he had 
received of the truth of the message. Then he said, 
Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose 
should I make a will ? As for my feeble 

HcmakesnowilL ^j^^j^ ^^^^ j ^jjj j^^^^ j^^j^j^j ^^^ f^^ ^^^^ 

I shall have no need of in the place whither I go, nor 

316 



DESPONDENCY 

is it worth bestowing upon the poorest pilgrims; wherefore, 
when I am gone, I desire that you, Mr Valiant, would bury 
it in a dunghill. This done, and the day being come in 
which he was to depart, he entered the river as the rest. 
His last words were, Hold out, faith and 
patience ! So he went over to the other side. ** ** ^*"^ * 

"When days had many of them passed away, Mr 
Despondency was sent for ; for a post was come, and 
brought this message to him : Trembling Mr Despondency's 
man ! these are to summon thee to be ready summons 
with thy King by thy next Lord's day, to shout for joy for 
thy deliverance from all thy doublings. And, said the 
messenger, that my message is true, take this for a proof: 
so he gave him the grasshopper to be a burden unto him. 

Now Mr Despondency's daughter, whose name was 
Much-afraid, said, when she heard what His daughter goes 
was done, that she would go with her ^°° 
father. Then Mr Despondency said to his friends. Myself 
and my daughter you know what we have been, and how 
troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every com- 
pany. My will and my daughter's is, that 
our desponds and slavish fears be by no ^' 

man ever received, from the day of our departure for ever ; 
for I know that after my death they will offer themselves 
to others. For to be plain with you, they are ghosts the 
which we entertained when we first began to be pilgrims, 
and could never shake them off after ; and they will walk 
about, and seek entertainment of the pilgrims : but for our 
sakes, shut ye the doors upon them. When the time was 
come for them to depart, they went to the brink of the 
river. The last words of Mr Despondency 

T? 11 • 1^ 1 1 I His last words 

were, l^arewell, night; welcome, day! 

His daughter went through the river singing, but none 

could understand what she said. 

Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a post 
in the town that inquired for Mr Honest. So he came to 
the house where he was, and delivered to ^r Honest sum- 
his hands these lines : Thou art commanded moaed 
to be ready against this day sevennight, to present thyself 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

before thy Lord, at His Father's house. And for a 
token that my message is true, All thy daughters of 
music shall be brought low. Then Mr Honest called 
for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but shall make 
no will. As for my honesty, it shall go 

He makes no will . ■ i i • i r r 

With me ; let him that comes after be 
told of this. "When the day that he was to be gone was 
come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now 
the river at that time overflowed the banks in some places j 
„ J . but Mr Honest in his life-time had spoken 

Good-conscience /-. j • i • i 

helps Mr Honest to oue Oood-conscience to meet him there, 

over the river ^j^^ ^j^j^j^ j^^ ^j^^ jjj^ ^^j ^^^^ j^j^^ j^j^ 

hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr 
Honest were, Grace reigns ! So he left the world. 

After this it was noised abroad that Mr Valiant-for-truth 
MrVaUant was taken with a summons by the same 

summoned post as the Other, and had this for a 

token that the summons was true, That his pitcher was 
broken at the fountain. When he understood it he 
called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said 
he, I am going to my Father's ; and though with great 
difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of 
all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My 
. sword I give to him that shall succeed me 

"^ in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill 

to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with 
me, to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles 
who now will be my rewarder. When the day that he 
must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the 
river side, into which as he went he said. Death, where is 
thy sting \ And as he went down deeper. 

His last words i. -j /"< u • ..l • .. 3 

Tie said, Grave, where is thy victory i 
So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him 
on the other side. 

Then there came forth a summons for Mr Standfast. 
Mr standfast This Mr Standfast was he that the rest of 

s summoned the pilgrims found upon his knees in the 

Enchanted Ground. For the post brought it him open in 
his hands ; the contents whereof were, that he must prepare 

318 



STANDFAST'S LAST WORDS 

for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that 
he should be so far from Him any longer. At this Mr 
Standfast was put into a muse. Nay, said the messenger, 
you need not doubt of the truth of my message j for 
here is a token of the truth thereof: The wheel is 
broken at the cistern. Then he called to He calls for Mr 
him Mr Great-heart, who was their guide. Great-heart 
and said unto him, Sir, although it was not my hap to be 
much in your good company in the days of my pilgrimage, 
yet, since the time I knew you, you have been profitable to 
me. When I came from home, I left behind 

• r J n iiL'ij i^ His speech to him 

me a wire and five small children ; let me 
entreat you at your return (for I know that you will 
go and return to your Master's house in hopes that you 
may yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims) 
that you send to my family, and let them be acquainted 
with all that hath and shall happen unto His errand to his 
me. Tell them moreover of my happy family 
arrival to this place, and of the present late blessed 
condition that I am in. Tell them also of Christian 
and of Christiana his wife, and how she and her children 
came after her husband. Tell them also of what a happy 
end she made, and whither she is gone. I have little 
or nothing to send to my family, unless it be prayers 
and tears for them ; of which it will suffice if thou 
acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail. "When 
Mr Standfast had thus set things in order, and the time 
being come to haste him away, he also went down to the 
river. Now there was a great calm at that time in the 
river; wherefore Mr Standfast, when he was about half 
way in, stood a while, and talked to his companions that 
had waited upon him thither. And he said, 

-1^1 • • 1 1 His last words 

1 nis river has been a terror to many ; yea, 
the thoughts of it also have often frighted me ; but now 
methinks I stand easy ; my foot is fixed upon that upon 
which the feet of the priests that bare the ark of the 
covenant stood while Israel went over this Jordan. 
The waters indeed are to the palate bitter, and to the 
stomach cold : yet the thoughts of what I am going 

319 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

to, and of the conduct that waits for me on the other side, 
doth he as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now 
at the end of my journey ; my toilsome days are ended. I am 
going now to see that head that was crowned with thorns, 
and that face which was spit upon for me. I have formerly 
lived by hearsay and faith : but now I go where I shall live 
by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight 
myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and 
wherever I have seen the print of His shoe in the earth, 
there I have coveted to set my foot too. His name has 
been to me as a civet-box ; yea, sweeter than all perfumes. 
His voice to me has been most sweet ; and His countenance 
I have more desired than they that have most desired the 
light of the sun. His word I did use to gather for my 
food, and for antidotes against my faintings. He has held 
me, and I have kept me from mine iniquities j yea, my steps 
hath He strengthened in His way. 

Now while he was thus in discourse his countenance 
changed •, his strong men bowed under him : and after he 
had said. Take me, for I come unto Thee, he ceased to be 
seen of them. 

But glorious it was to see how the upper region was filled 
with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with 
singers and players on stringed instruments, to welcome 
the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in 
at the beautiful gate of the city. 

As for Christiana's children, the four boys that Christiana 
brought, with their wives and children, I did not stay 
where I was till they were gone over. Also since I came 
away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and so 
would be for the increase of the church in that place where 
they were for a time. 

Should it be my lot to go that way again, I may give 
those that desire it an account of what I here am silent 
about : meantime I bid my reader 

Adieu. 

THE END. 

Printed in the United States of America er 



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